Josh Farnsworth is a national award-winning parenting columnist who lives with his wife and two goofball sons. You can reach him for column ideas at josh.farnsworth@yahoo.com.
I’m not sure exactly what I was looking at, but it was something alright.
My oldest son, Cooper, strode confidently into the room wearing knee-high, tie-dye socks tucked into a pair of adult pants 17 sizes too big, a formal vest and stormtrooper mask. He then proceeded to sing a made-up song about going to his grandparents’ house soon. So, you know, a typical Saturday afternoon. Right?
Maybe all kids do this, but Cooper seems to have all the 9-year-old makings of someone destined to be an entertainer for a living. Or a lawyer. If he believes dessert may have been promised, he transforms into the Law Office of Cooper, esquire.
“You DID technically say that cookies were technically fine after we go to the playground, and aren’t we in the van technically leaving the playground?”
Overruled. Give it a rest, Matlock.
One day you are burping him on your shoulder. The next minute, he’s burping to the beat of a silly song he created on the spot.
The law is not his first love these days. No, the blood coursing through his veins seems to want to entertain others for laughs. His answer may ebb and flow when asked what he wants to be when he grows up, but the smart money is on going full-Steve Martin with an arrow through his head.
How did this happen? One day you are burping him on your shoulder. The next minute, he’s burping to the beat of a silly song he created on the spot.
As a parent, I really have one smart thing to do at this point: exploit his talents for money. Kidding. I promise.
I think right now, it is about enjoying the ride and wondering what path will we travel down furthest—comedian, actor or parody singer?
A stand-up guy
“You know why I don’t trust stairs? They are always up to something.”
The dad jokes fly fast and furious inside the Farnsworth mobile whenever we travel.
And the thing is, Cooper pays attention. He delivers with a certain timing and he knows how to deliver a punchline like a pro.
In short—biases fully realized and on the table—Cooper is funny. Like, really funny.
He is also fearless in many social settings (except school for now, as he has been informed several times about place and time for bringing out the funnies). I admire that about him. We could be at a party with a lot of other very funny adults, and he will chime in with a pun that takes everyone by surprise.
“Where did this kid come from with that?” someone asks after a cleverly played comeback.
“My house. I always come from my house?” he responds. Get it?
Character actor
I hear voices all the time. But, really, that is normal in my residence. Thanks to Cooper, all our resident stuffed animals have unique voices and personalities.
But my son’s acting range is not limited to toys. He’s the ringleader when it comes to organizing the game they are playing with his large group of cousins and family friends. He’s the one yelling things like: “Follow me! This way if you want to live!! We fight back! Pew! Pew-pew!”
William Wallace would be jealous of his battle cries.
Singer
I call it “sight singing.” It’s when Cooper turns the most mundane things—like tacos for dinner—into a dramatic song or opera performance.
At least I don’t have to announce the menu for the rest of the people in this house—or neighborhood.
What it all means
I’m not sure, actually. The one thing I do know: his acting and voicing and singing are for others. Because when he sees someone laugh or get that extra thread of positivity woven into their day, he has his reward. I get it, Coop. I most certainly get it.
So, keep on being you, my fearless dude. And on the advice of counsel, let’s go get those cookies I supposedly owe you.
