I am absolutely, 100% certain that Parkour was accidentally invented by parents of a toddler as a joke. And somehow it just…caught on.
Have you ever just sat and observed a toddler in their natural habitat?
I gaze upon my son stumbling, rolling, jumping, crawling, hopping, and most often of all, falling and it just amazes me.
I mean, for one, the energy that he exudes is enviable to say the least. My god! The things I could get done with just an ounce of it.
But the uncertainty is what really amazes me- I don’t think that there is any predetermined end point. There is no well conceived plan as to what “obstacle” he’ll tackle next. He just gets after it.
Pillow on the couch?
Maybe he’ll jump over it. Maybe he’ll grab it and roll around with it. Maybe he’ll use it as an catapult, a shitty one, but one nonetheless, to his next landing spot, where he will launch himself onto another hard to semi-hard surface.
I have sent myself into many a coughing fit by the frequency and ferocity of my audible gasps. “Jesus, Mary and Joseph” is a constant whisper in the house.
And for the most part, they are all the same. All toddlers. I’m around many, and they are just….wild…. To different degrees of course, but each of them has it in them. Somehow, somewhere,. Perhaps it’s well hidden. Incognito mode can only be maintained for so long before they go rogue. It is uncontained, uncontrived and absolutely effing nuts…
“Alexa, order ice packs”