How would a dad, whose profession is precise, academic observation, describe a day just hanging out with his son, doing basically nothing?
As a young dad, William A. Sutton documented exactly 47 minutes with his son Bobby on the afternoon of Sunday, Jan. 6, 1952. Sutton at the time was an English professor at Ball State University. Bobby was 13 months and 9 days old. In his account, edited for space, Bobby is referred to as B., his mother as M. and his father as F.
- JOHN BARRY, Floridian deputy editor
B. was sitting in his small, red wagon playing with the string from his bag of blocks. B. crawled over the side of the wagon and crouched first on his haunches. Then he sat on the floor, picking up the string which he had dropped, now grasped between the thumb and forefinger of his left hand. He tossed the string so that one end of it was slung over his right shoulder. Next, grasping a string end in each hand, he held an end up to each other. Then he walked over to M., on davenport, putting string down before her.
From there he went across the room to the Toy, a paper-panel structure just erected by his parents. He leaned so hard against it as to tear one of the heavy-paper panels. Hearing the rip, he stepped back, looking surprised.
Turning away, he jiggled the leg of the end table on which the radio rested. Continuing past the radio, he crawled into the lap of F., grabbing at F.'s pencil. As F. continued to write, B. looked up at adjacent lamp, which was lit, saying what sounded like "lie-lie." Then he scrambled to the rug.
He next paid a brief visit to his wagon, not stopping, and cut directly across the room to the play pen barricade across one entrance to the room. He pushed two colored beads on a simple abacus which was part of the play pen and within his reach. Crossing to the play pen gate, he stood briefly with his hand on it and then jiggled the barricade experimentally against the doorjamb.
He went across the room to the desk, tugging at the blotter he could just barely see on the desk top. Then he tugged open the third drawer on the right side of the desk. The one he had been encouraged to think of as his own was the one above. M. closed the drawer and reminded him the one above was his, remarked she thought she had securely plugged with paper wadding the one he had just opened, replaced the wadding, and walked away. B. immediately opened the same drawer. M. came back and plugged the drawer tighter. B. tried the drawer again as soon as she had finished, found he could not budge it, and gave up.
Turning away, B. picked up a fuzzy white lamb, which was lying on the floor near the desk, and walked over to M., then seated in the chair near the southeast bookcase. Uttering cooing noises as he went, he went to F., who was seated in a nearby chair, and put a hand on his leg. M. told B. to come to her to get his shoelace tied. B. looked at his shoe, started as if to M. and then as if to the front door. Suddenly, dropping the lamb, he turned again toward M. and went to her, she picking him up and tying his lace. As she did so, he said "Yah-yah-yah-yah," a very pleasant sound, as he makes it.
M. had decided to repair the paper panel B. had torn not long before. In preparation she pulled open the desk drawer B. had earlier been prevented from getting into. B. slowly walked over to the desk and grasped the pulls of the drawer after M. had closed the drawer again. He made a high, gentle squealing noise as he walked over toward M., who was putting mucilaged paper on the damaged panel.
He brushed between M.'s shoulder and a chair to get closer and attentively watched the repairs for a few seconds. He lunged forward, attempting to get onto the damaged panel, and was pushed back. He then knelt, both hands on an edge of the panel, then stood again, watching attentively. He walked closer to M., placing his head so that it almost touched her face, looking carefully at her hands and face (involved in the process of licking mucilaged paper and putting it on the damaged panel). A big smile came over his face. Then he stood and became very serious-looking. He looked very carefully into the tent-shaped Toy. He went around the side of it, making no sound, and staggered into it. The panel that had just been repaired was torn further.
Soon he went to the desk and pulled open a plugged and unauthorized drawer, lifting two bottles of ink out of it. M. rescued the ink and pushed the drawer in again. As M. turned from the drawer, B. went to her with arms outstretched. M. picked him up and took him to the front window to look out with her. Saying, "Gook, Dee-ee. Dee," he reached outward with his hands, swiveling his head rapidly as a car went by on the road.
Then he joined M., who was playing with the blocks on the floor. He put a block on the pile M. was building. When he tried to add another, he knocked one off, making chirping noises as he did so. Crawling on the floor, B. tried to get hold of blocks not used yet. Then he squirmed into M.'s lap, knocking down the pile of blocks. Picking up a cylindrical block and a blue one, he sat on an irregular pile of other blocks. Then he crawled on the floor, holding those two. He came back to the block pile and scattered it, squealing. M. growled. He smiled.
Reaching into the wagon, he pulled the block sack out of it and onto the floor, tipping the blocks out of the sack. M. helped empty out the rest of the blocks and shook the block sack.
Then he walked over to M., still playing with the blocks, and knocked over her latest block tower, squealing. Pushing and reaching, he went right into the midst of what M. was doing. M. gently pushed him onto his back. He got up and bored right back in. Turning from that, he went over to F., stumbling over block sack and struggling over the wagon handle as he went. Then he went back to M., knocking the pile over, pushing blocks in all directions. M. then left, stepping over the gate and leaving the room. B. said "yeh" inquiringly and followed her to gate. Seeing M. was gone, he crossed to the desk, lay down on the floor, grasped a block while lying on the floor, walked to the radio, and tuned out the station.
Crossing to where F. was, he tried to force up the lid of the box, on which F. was writing, saying "Goo!" as he pried. F. held the lid down against the considerable pressure exerted. B. went back to the radio, turned a dial, and knocked off a block resting on ledge in front of radio. Then he returned to make a determined assault on the suit box. He forced up the edge of the box several inches, far enough to be able to tug at the sash of the dressing gown in the box and pull a foot or so of it out of the box. F. had to stop writing and detach child from sash and box. B. turned away, went across room, and then returned to attack the box. Repulsed, B. went to the gate and began to cry. F. stopped taking notes and went to his son.
- William A. Sutton, 87, lives in Dunedin with his wife, Marion. Their son, Robert W. Sutton, 52, lives in Clearwater Beach with his two children, ages 8 and 11.
