Ant is an amazing child. We knew he was an amazing child from the start.
He did break the “curse” on my husband’s family, you know. The curse was that when the second son was expecting his second son, the father of the first mentioned son would pass away. It happened with J’s grandfather, and before, and before. Not so this time around.
It could also be attributed to better preventative medical care, but the idea of a broken curse is more romantic.
Now that he has moved past babyhood and preschool, it is really awesome to be privy to his true personality. Also, it is so much fun to see how he is the same as J, and how he is different. I love watching this transitional stage that ends in fully entrenched school-age childhood.
The ladies at work love it when I come in with Ant stories from the night prior. He has such a flair for the dramatic right now! And quite the swagger. I have been told that I need to write these down, not just to share with others, but so that I do not forget when he gets older.
Can you say blackmail?
A few nights ago, I tried my hand at chicken enchiladas. Ant loves enchiladas, but I’m no chef, and mine just don’t compare to J’s. That doesn’t stop me from trying to best him, however!
I was feeling pretty good while cooking that night. I had garlic and onions going. Peppers go in. Cook the chicken, simmer the sauce (I do have to buy, can’t make my own). Roll them up, bake, and serve!
I had plated the boys’, and ran to get something out of the refrigerator. The next thing I know Ant’s breathing heavy and moaning, and K’s yelling, “My lips are burning!”
Because, you see, I don’t read Spanish so well. I thought the traditional variety of enchilada sauce would be better than an Americanized brand. Of course, as K pointed out to me that evening, the big red letters at the bottom of the can, in Spanish, attested to the fact that this is some of the hottest stuff out there…
Later that evening, towards bedtime, Ant came to me. He patted my cheeks and stroked my arm and spoke what was on his mind:
Ant: Momma, I am almost seven!
Me: I know hon.
Ant: Do you want to know what I have noticed in my seven years?
Me (and boy, am I curious now!): What is that?
Ant: You and Daddy are different.
I’m thinking to myself, “Seriously? You’ve just now noticed that he’s a boy and I’m not? That I am, in fact, the only girl in this house?” But I say:
Me: Really? How so?
Ant: Well, Momma, you are very good at cleaning. You do a fabulous job picking stuff up. But Daddy is a good cook. You are not a good cook, Momma, and you should not do it so much anymore.
I like how he gave the bad news after paying me a compliment. I think.
A few weeks ago I shared my horror with the ladies at work, much to their amusement. I had to stop at the store after work, and pick up some ‘girl stuff’. I had Ant with me. He’s never noticed anything about this before, but he decided to notice that night, in the checkout line. To the amusement of everyone in the express checkout lane.
Including the Dean of J School.
He was full of questions I just wasn’t in the mood to answer right then.
My coworkers did what every good coworker would do. With permission, of course. They told everyone!
It was embarrassing, but it was also great. It was just one of those things where you have to share your personal humiliation with others.
Last night, at dinner, we had the TV on. Wednesday nights are Ghosthunters night, and we ALL love Ghosthunters. A commercial came on. You know what kind of commercial it was.
Anthony scrunched up his face in a perplexed way. There was confusion, frustration, and something else I just can’t put my finger on. Perhaps intuitive aversion? Needless to say, this combo was downright hilarious, and J, K and I burst out laughing.
Anthony did not like this. “Don’t laugh at me,” he said, “It’s not my fault that none of you will tell what that’s all about!”
I am writing all of these down now. You know, so I can attest to the fact that we knew he was amazing in his childhood. When he becomes a famous food critic, TV producer, or the like.
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