Rocco aka Robin the Boy Wonder!
My son Rocco will be four years old in less than two weeks. He was born three days before Christmas. When I’m not pulling my hair out trying to get him to listen to me, I’m usually laughing at the things he says and does. I try to write them down at the end of each day, whether it’s fashioning a Superman cape out of a blanket sleeper or lecturing me on the difference between a trash bin and a waste basket.
Yesterday, when I asked him if he was planning to leave cookies and milk for Santa, he said no. Santa gets plenty of cookies. “I’m leaving Santa a waffle with butter and no syrup and a banana,” he said. Where does he come up with this stuff at his age?
Then, this morning, he had me laughing myself to tears. It went something like this … “What is happening to me!?” he exclaimed. “I think I am not a boy anymore,” he added in a Jim Gaffigan-like whisper. After examining his hands, arms, torso, and legs, he concluded with shock and disbelief, in the same whisper, “I think I am turning into a SUPER HERO!” About five minutes later he seemed puzzled as he made some strange motions, examined his palms and said “Hmmmm … there is no fire coming out.” Then he went back to playing with his little action figures. One of them was The Human Torch I think.
About 30 minutes later, he comes running to me and sadly exclaims “I’m not a super hero! I just hurted my finger.” Apparently when he did not get hurt earlier, he thought he might be making the transformation from boy to super hero, but it was just a fluke. He is still a mere mortal. Life goes on.
Yesterday’s topic of concern was hair. He flips if a piece of hair gets in his mouth. Yesterday, it happened outside. He thought he’d swallowed it, and was very upset. “Will I die!?” he asked. “No Rocco, you won’t die from a piece of hair in your stomach,” I assured him. He seemed fine with this and went back to playing. A couple of hours later, we were in the car and he starts getting upset. “My own tummy is hurting! The hair is in there! What will happen? Will I die!?” Ugg! So I’m driving along, and I’m trying to stay calm and not laugh myself off the road. I once again assure him that the hair will not hurt him in any way. I told him where it would end up, which started a whole new conversation for another blog. Later in the evening, he came running up to me and said “My tummy is not hurting! The hair did not hurt my own tummy!”
Recently, maybe a month ago, he expressed concern over the growth of his fingernails. Apparently, he was genuinely worried that they would grow too long and he would become a werewolf! I assured him that he was just a boy, and no such transformation would take place if his nails were left to grow. With a tone of stunned relief, he said “I am just a boy!? I am not going to turn into a werewolf!?” To which I replied, “Yes Rocco, you’re just a boy. You will never turn into a werewolf.” The subject still comes up now and then when he requests a nail trimming. I trimmed his nails this morning after his bath, and he seemed very relieved and made a comment under his breath about how he wouldn’t be turning into a werewolf today. I guess he still isn’t convinced.
Sidney H. DeTora