Little Eddy is such a messy boy. I always have to put a huge bib on him for din-din, and he has to be strapped into his high chair quite securely, to be sure he doesn’t try to run off. He always wants to toddle around the house and climb on things. When he does that it’s only a matter of time before something valuable gets broken.
I don’t blame Eddy of course, it isn’t his fault he has such poor coordination, such insatiable curiosity and boundless energy. He can’t help being messy and getting into everything. Eddy isn’t a twenty-three year old man anymore. I have to remind visitors of that. He can’t be held to the same standards.
On the flip-side I’ve had people tell me off for putting him on a leash when we’re out on an errand. They act like he’s been caged when the opposite is true. A leash gives him far more freedom than strapping him into a stroller. He can use his legs for more than drumming his heels on a foot rest. He can feel the earth and pavement and cool linoleum floors under his feeties. I’ve gotten dirty looks for letting him run around barefoot in public too, but again its a freedom toddlers are allowed to enjoy.
And that’s what Eddy is. He’s a tiny little toddler in a big body. He has only the simplest of little boy thoughts in his empty head. You need only look at his wide, empty eyes while he’s squishing his fingers in his food. Just look at his slack, juvenile expression when I show him the new toy I got him from the dollar shop. It’s brightly coloured and squeaks. He’s astounded by it, he’s delighted.
People don’t understand my beautiful baby boy. But I do. I made him this way. I helped him when he was Ed, an unhappy, probably clinically depressed young man who rang into the support line I volunteered to answer. It only took a couple meetings before I knew he was a perfect subject for my new computer programme. I told him to take a simple diagnostic test on my computer, to see if he had any personality disorders. Half an hour later the ‘test’ was only half done, but Ed was slumped over before the screen, drool trickling down his chin out of his slack mouth, shoulders slumped and eyes half closed.
I sat down next to him, put my hand on his shoulder. He barely moved, barely noticed.
“Ed, you aren’t happy in your life are you?” I asked.
“No,” he mumbled softly after a long pause.
“You’d like to start over fresh, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes,” came a whispered reply.
“Then you need to escape from this life Eddy. Hit escape and you can start over.”
Eddy lifted one heavy arm and punched the escape key. The screen flickered then turned to a swirl of colours. I left Eddy to watch in peace. Another hour later the screen went dark and Eddy looked up, alert again but now with the blank, simple eyes of a little baby boy. His pants were already soaked and I knew he was ready to be my boy.
People don’t understand Eddy, and they wouldn’t understand what I did for him. But I know it was the right decision for both of us.
