I realized the other day that we live in Baltimore. I know, it doesn’t come as a shock to the rest of you, but it actually took me a bit by surprise. A part of me (and not even a small one) keeps wondering when we’re going home. Romi misses Tucson too. More often than not he picks a pre-bed book with Tucson photos. He talks about our family and friends, our old house and his old school, the synagogue. It’s amazing how much he remembers. That being said, our little guy has adjusted quite well. He loves his new school and his teachers, seems perfectly happy in the new house and thinks that having his very own Steven living in the basement is the best thing, well, ever.
Romi’s airplane obsession remains unabated. We’ve visited the truly beautiful observation deck at BWI numerous times, his airplane collection can never be large enough (for him) and we’ve even schlepped to DC to see Concorde. When he flies his planes (most often a MD-80 or Boeing 747) the destination is either Tucson or Taiwan, with a bit of Charlotte to visit Aunt JoJo thrown in for good measure. He acts the part of the air traffic controller (complete with pretend voice) and loves when his planes hit turbulence. And of course, the kid is still outsmarting his parents. When I asked if he wanted to take the bus, go to the airport or visit the zoo, he gave it some thought before replying, “Take the bus to the airport.”
He is growing up way too fast. The other day he calmly reported his future plans to Steven and I as he sat in the car seat: “When me get older me going to be a teacher, not a swim teacher, a regular teacher, but me have a big problem. Me can’t read.” And then there was this wonderful proposal: “When me get older me going to be a fireman so me can help people.” And then it got scary: “When me get older, me cross the street by myself, go to a kids’ movie, play angry birds and wear Thomas tzitzit.” I would have freaked out but I figure if he can’t use pronouns he can’t play video games.
We are working hard on saying “I” instead of me following this conversation:
Romi: Me have no dump truck.
Ima; Romi, I don’t have a dump truck.
Romi (with sympathy): Me don’t have one either.
Of course, this led to the conversational gemstone, “Me trying to say I!”
And the one that had Steven and I desperately trying not to react: “Abba in Texas. That sucks.”
Romi’s airplane obsession remains unabated. We’ve visited the truly beautiful observation deck at BWI numerous times, his airplane collection can never be large enough (for him) and we’ve even schlepped to DC to see Concorde. When he flies his planes (most often a MD-80 or Boeing 747) the destination is either Tucson or Taiwan, with a bit of Charlotte to visit Aunt JoJo thrown in for good measure. He acts the part of the air traffic controller (complete with pretend voice) and loves when his planes hit turbulence. And of course, the kid is still outsmarting his parents. When I asked if he wanted to take the bus, go to the airport or visit the zoo, he gave it some thought before replying, “Take the bus to the airport.”
He is growing up way too fast. The other day he calmly reported his future plans to Steven and I as he sat in the car seat: “When me get older me going to be a teacher, not a swim teacher, a regular teacher, but me have a big problem. Me can’t read.” And then there was this wonderful proposal: “When me get older me going to be a fireman so me can help people.” And then it got scary: “When me get older, me cross the street by myself, go to a kids’ movie, play angry birds and wear Thomas tzitzit.” I would have freaked out but I figure if he can’t use pronouns he can’t play video games.
We are working hard on saying “I” instead of me following this conversation:
Romi: Me have no dump truck.
Ima; Romi, I don’t have a dump truck.
Romi (with sympathy): Me don’t have one either.
Of course, this led to the conversational gemstone, “Me trying to say I!”
And the one that had Steven and I desperately trying not to react: “Abba in Texas. That sucks.”
