Biscetti

When I was a kid, I was decidedly not cute. I wasn't physically ugly, but I'm pretty sure I wasn't endearing to adults. I was very precocious, and likely came across as a know-it-all (if present behaviour is any indication of past behaviour). I began writing at age 3, and reading at age 4. By age 5 I read chapter books.

Once I told all the other kids in daycare that there was no Santa Claus. Our teacher took all the older kids (7-10) aside, and told us that we were free to believe whatever we wanted, but that we were not to share our beliefs with the other children. Also, she wanted us to know that she, personally believed in Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, and God. "So you don't believe in God," I observed. She sent me for time out.

Of all the kids I resented (and I was an embittered little soul) I resented the cute ones the most. The ones with long eyelashes, and round cheeks, and what I viewed as speech affectations, who said things like "biscetti" for spaghetti, and "hostible" for hospital.

It is now, as a parent, that I have to concede that there MUST be a God, with a devastating sense of humour, who sent me my curly headed, round-cheeked, long-eyelashed little boy, of endless wit and good heart, who when he wants to get by says: "Coo-mees, mama, coo-mees", and refers to himself as "Jishyo", rather than by his name, unless he is asked to repeat his name correctly. And just to get me back for being such a cold-hearted, jealous little tyke, God sent me a child who will need extra help to grow out of his way of speaking.

So I smile to myself, and remind myself that other parents enjoy these funny sayings, and I should too, and I gently reply: "It's excuse me, Papi, not coo-mees".

"Yeah, scuse-mees. I TOLD you yesterDAY mommy. Coo-mees."

And he bats his cute little eyelashes, and I get out of his way.