A Spoonful of Sugar

Do all the parents of two year olds think their children are destined to lead a life of stardom?

Last night, my husband and I were sitting on the floor of our living room watching our son dance around in his too tight, too short Spiderman pajammas. He was wearing one of my hats and would hold it on his head when his dance moves got too complicated, sort of like an old Gene Kelly movie. He was singing to his favorite CD, which he affectionately calls his "Baby Music" and making up the words that he didn't know. Richard and I would laugh and he would notice and get encouraged and smile to himself before doing something else to make us laugh.

"Mommy?" he says, while catching his breath.

"Yes, pickle." I reply.

"Isaiah make mad face." he says, while beaming.

He scrunches his face up and narrows his eyebrows, all the while trying to hid his smile.

We all laugh.

"Mommy?" he says again. I look in his direction.

"Isaiah make happy face."

He throws his head back in laughter and opens his mouth in a wide smile.

We laugh and he giggles.

"Isaiah sad." He says concluding his one man show.

He pokes his little pink lip out and looks down. I kiss his cheeks because I can't take it, even if it is pretend.

He smiles and goes back to dancing.

I am in for it.

He was clearly bitten with that insatiable creative gene that drew me and his Dad to one another in law school. The one that had us writing short stories together at midnight when finals were the next day.

"I don't think you are going to get your doctor." I said laughing to my husband who has had his heart set on having a doctor in the family.

I was remembering my dear boy dancing in his diaper at my in-laws on Saturday. Singing his ABCs for the nurses at his doctor's office. Dancing out of the funeral hall with the police bregade at my brother's funeral.

Shameless, is this child.

Fearless and brave.

Yes.
I am in for it.