My children were born healthy, and with all fingers and toes in place, my wife and I could not have been happier. As is so often the case, we could not have been more mistaken. While they may have been fine on the surface, they were born with delays and limitations the majority of people never have to face. Sour grapes notwithstanding, I would not wish our children's challenges upon anyone. Thankfully for me, my children have a mother who refused to accept anything short of a true resolution — even if it meant dragging their less-than-cooperative father along for the ride.
My son, for example, required occupational therapy. Sensory overload was the norm for him, and he required feedback just to get by. That's where the Rody comes into play. Christmas at age two can be quite magical when Rody is involved. He was beside himself. Beyond bringing him endless joy, it provided the sensory input feedback he needed to help him cope with the world around him. It also gave him core strength and coordination rarely seen at such a young age. Unfortunately, he was a bit hard on his Rody and eventually popped him due to strenuous usage. Thankfully, the makers of the Rody stand firmly behind their product and replaced him without balking ... though the replacement was a Racin' Rody, a different beast altogether.
He loved his Racin' Rody; his best friend. He rode him everywhere and even made up songs about him, singing, "Racin' Rody! Racin' Rody! Racin' Racin' Rody!" all set to the tune of "Jingle Bells." You can imagine my surprise when he approached me shortly after turning five, carrying his Racin' Rody under his arms instead of riding him. As he is lifting his Racin’ Rody high enough so I can see him above the desk that was between us, he exclaimed, “his name is Biscuit!”
Apparently the fact that he had called this particular toy ‘Racin’ Rody’ for months was no longer relevant. “Isn’t his name ‘Racin’ Rody?’” I asked him.
After a moment of thought, he responded with, “Uh, his name is ‘Racin’ Rody Biscuit!’”
Of course it is.
