Driving the Car and Pushing Buttons

Jack has shown a keen interest in pushing buttons on stuff that he knows he shouldn't mess with. According to my parents, this is an hereditary trait as I did the same when I was a little boy (more on that later). It would appear he's figured out that the buttons on his toys don't compare with what the buttons do on "real" stuff like our alarm system, key switches and knobs in the car, laptop computers, the dishwasher, and the microwave.

His latest button craze is combined with "driving the car," which he likes to do after I pick him from day care or after we return to the house from an errand. This involves him climbing into the driver's seat of the car and pretending to drive. Normally, this this is harmless when the car is shut down although some buttons will remain switched on even if the car is turned off (e.g., the seat warmers which can be a little bit of a surprise if you're not expecting it).

Jack (in May, 2008) pushing buttons.

A couple of times, I've arrived home in my work car as my attractive wife and Jack are returning from day care. Jack loves to get into the passenger seat of my work car as I drive it into our two-car garage. In the couple of times he's done this, he's managed to reset my satellite radio, erase one or more presets on my car radio, and and creatively reposition my rear view and side mirrors.

Jack in February, 2009 still pushing buttons.

Jack will try to "drive the car" for as long as possible. He loves it. When finally persuaded to come into the house, he'll delight in pausing live or recorded TV on our Tivos in the living room and his bedroom. He can even turn on and off the TVs using the Tivo remotes (which refers to as 'motes').

In many ways, I can empathize with Jack; I loved pushing buttons on gadgets when I was little. I remember one night, my father took the family to a friend's house for dinner. The house was very fancy and ornate. As my parents talked in the living room, I wandered down a hallway and saw the Mother of All Control Panels, complete with glowing buttons. Ooooooh, I thought. I shouldn't mess with it but, well, I was nine or ten and couldn't resist it. I pressed one button, or maybe it was two and then heard the loudest sound in my life (I had activated the burglar alarm). I remember sympathetically backing into the opposite wall. My father was furious. Our host was magnanimous, I remembered. I felt like Mickey Mouse in Disney's version of "The Sorcerer's Apprentice".