Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Alright, I’ll admit it. I want Luca to be a thug. Part of it is his Godfather name. He just seems like he should be breaking other baby’s thumbs. Part of it is his looks. Don’t get me wrong, the kid is adorable. Just ask every single grocery check out person in the greater Denver area. But there’s just something so…soccer hooligan about him. Whenever he stumbles into the room, I expect him to do that “Oy!” thing and then give you that obscene gesture where they stick their two fingers up in a V shape. I want him to be a blunt object. All muscle and no brains. I think it’s because I have a long list of people I’d like him to beat up.
But, like all of my sick, pathetic wishes for my boys, it isn’t going to happen.
I think Luca is a genius.
At his check up yesterday, his speaking ability shocked the “I’ve seen everything” Pediatrician. The kid has actual two word sentences. “Dada hoooome” is my current favorite. Partly because it’s about me and partly because it’s a dead on E.T. impersonation.
Here’s another example. A little while ago, Diana and the boys were at the Denver library. One of the librarians was reading some kind of kids book and Luca toddled up to her and said, “Bon Bear Bon Bear.” The librarian looked at him like he was an alien (E.T.). Why? Because the book she was reading was not the classic “Brown Bear,” but another book by the same ILLUSTRATOR as “Brown Bear.”
I mean, really? Identifying an illustrator at age 15 months? Why do I have to be the dumb one in the house? I was kind of hoping Luca would be the one who I spend my Saturdays with, drooling and rubbing margarine on our stomachs.
Maybe Luca will end up being a genius thug. Maybe he’ll say, “I plan on lacerating your cerebral cortex,” when he’s giving a guy the business.
But based on his recent addiction to smoochies, I don’t think I’m even going to get that.