And now my three-year-old is a balding 55-year-old man in a suit.

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Often while watching the child do child things, I CGI that s*it and age him by 50+ years. Now he’s a slightly balding, middle-aged man who is eating a peanut butter and jam sandwich except that he’s just licking the jam off it and then he’s trying to touch his nose with his tongue. Then he turns around in his chair and sticks out his butt so that it touches the plate where the sandwich is.

Before leaving for work, the man takes off his coat and throws it on the floor and he tramples it. He kicks off his boots and lies down on top of them, screaming. Then as if nothing happened, the man gets up and puts the boots on, left on right, right on left.  

On his way to work, the man climbs on top of every single pile of old hardened snow and he jumps on it till it crumbles. Satisfied, he moves along till the next pile of snow, which he kicks so hard one of his boots falls off. He cries about it but collects himself immediately when he remembers a piece of old chocolate in his pocket.

And now the man is in public (a cocktail lounge somewhere), he’s in a suit, and then he is suddenly dropping to the floor and he’s doing a  back spin. And now he’s getting up and running, running toward a random wall and when he’s there he screams, “Oppan Gangnam style,” and then he’s running back and he throws himself on a couch and he grabs someone’s iPhone and he’s pretending it’s a microphone and he belts out, “Baa baa black sheep, old MacDonalds had a farm!”

Next, the same man, this time in pajamas, is in his bed, is getting ready to go to sleep, except that he’s trying to stand on his head, his big, hairy legs springing off the mattress and touching the wall for a second only to pull the man down and he collapses. The man wails indignantly. Then he tries it again. And again. Then he gets out of bed and sits in the middle of the hallway with his arms crossed over his beer gut, announcing, “I am not sleepy.”

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