Visitor #2, Romie Boy

Let me tell you about Roman.

Grandmas everywhere think their grandchildren are the cutest. Those poor grandmas haven't met my Roman for if they had, they'd know their folly. My grandson is definitely the cutest, the sweetest, the smartest, cuddliest, etc, etc, etc. (Disclaimer: Everything I just said is in jest and only intended to communicate how charmed I am by Roman. I know your grandchildren are wonderfully amazing too.)

Roman wasn't quite sure what to think of me at the airport. He let me hold him but he stared at me like, "I'm watching you. Don't do anything you'll regret." Mostly he was fine with me if his mommy was close by.

For the first couple days he was Paka's boy. Paka is Gordon. Without his daddy, he seemed to be in need of Gordon's masculine attention. Deborah did that once on a trip to Colorado. She kept pretty close to my nephew Jeffrey. After a couple days of this, I happened to notice that of all the men in the room, Jeff most resembled her dad. Wanting to be near Jeff seemed to be a way of staying connected to Gordon. We think that's why Roman liked Gordon so much. Gordon loved Roman back. He carried him around, spoke soothing words, played with him. Roman and Gordon bonded well. Then Gordon left for Mexico, but that's a different story that I'll tell later.

.
Not trying to brag (it comes naturally) Roman loves his Beppie. We have so much fun. We read and I give him baths and he loves me for it. He's let me put him to bed three nights and they were all cry-free nights. Beppie has the touch.
I told Roman on the second day that a good education is expensive and it's never too early to work on the college scholarship. He agreed and we went to work. I taught him to pat his head when asked, "Where's Roman?" Being smart, original, and slightly bent toward non-conforming, he insisted it was more clever to point instead of pat. I say, "Where's Roman" and he lifts his index finger to his head and taps it gently. Sometimes when a few minutes pass without him getting adequate attention and praise, he looks at me and taps his head with his pointer. I go berserk with praise and he taps harder and harder like he's yelling, "Here I am. Here I am." Pure charm.


I'm prone to say something silly like "that college scholarship is in the bag." Stephanie asked if they give scholarships to everyone who knows who they are. I responded, "I bet they don't give them to anyone who doesn't know who they are."

Roman still likes the "where's Roman?" game, but there are other things to learn to get the really good scholarships. Anatomy is important. He's not as competent at anatomy yet, but sometimes when I ask him where his nose is, he'll shove a finger in a nostril.

Basic zoology is critical as well. This is where the wooden cow on my kitchen shelf comes in handy. "Roman where's the cow?" To that interrogative (Roman's word, not mine) sentence, he turns his big blue eyes to the cow and I praise, "There's the cow."


I've tried to get him to say Beppie, moo, woof woof, meow and things like that. Roman is a man of few words though. The strong silent type some might say. Instead of a lot of gabbing, he prefers mathematics and simple physics. We read the story of Daniel in the Lions' Den and count the lions (there were four if Roman's Bible is truly inspired) and discuss the mechanics of a den and the methods God may have used to keep the hungry lions from eating Daniel. Did they suddenly feel very full, too stuffed to eat Daniel?, were their mouths miraculously kept closed, maybe their senses were discombobulated. Roman and I weren't able to extrapolate a simple explanation. We decided to leave it at "1,2,3,4 lions sit by Daniel. 1,2,3,4 lions don't eat Daniel." Amazingly Roman had the faith to believe it without a scientific explanation.

He's very very clever.