Mama likes to ask you random questions to see what you'll see. Sometimes I ask you if you like asparagus, even though I know you have no idea what that means. Or I'll ask you if you have a purple nose or if you like the Seahawks better than the Steelers.
I also like to ask you if your name is something strange. I'll ask you if your name is Hephzibah McGillicudy, for example. Or Dwayne Smarkinsky. Or Eugene Parsnip. Whatever strange-sounding names or words come into my head. Just to see what you'll do.
You're used to it. You know your Mama is silly.
The other night we heard the garage door open, signalling that Daddy was home.
I asked you who was home and you said, "Daddy". I said, "Nathan's daddy or Divot's daddy?" (Divot's our dog).
You said, "Divot's daddy" (and I could tell by the look in your eye that you were on to me - you knew that I was being silly).
Then I said, 'What's Divot's daddy's name?"
You did this funny thing with your eyebrows (that seemed to say, "Wait for it...") and then you proudly pronounced, "Felix!" and then you started laughing your head off because you knew you'd just played my own game back at me, and that you'd done it well.
I have no idea where "Felix" came from, but it is a pretty strange sounding name. Good job, son!
We laughed and laughed at how silly you were. You were so proud of yourself that you spent the rest of your night running around the house yelling, "Felix! Felix!" and laughing proudly.
I'm so happy to see your sense of humor beginning to develop, Little Man. Nothing in Haiti is funny. It's hard to be wacky when you're starving to death.
So here, in this safe place, you're blossoming. You're stretching your mind and you're discovering imagination and you're learning that the world has words like "pretend" and "playing" and "silly" and "more, please".
You're even branching out into wacky.
And I love every minute of it.
I love you, Felix.