In some ways, Rob and I are the most cautious of parents, and and in others, well, not so much. We can't help it, Romi just seems so darn capable so much of the time. He is far less klutzy then his Ima and far more organized than his Abba. Poor kid will be in charge of everything by the time he's six.
In any case, we let Romi use knives. I don't mean butter knives; we've given him those since he was a baby, much to the angst of fellow diners for years. (Not only has it never been a problem, but I have always been much more concerned with the tong-brandishing fork). But by knives I mean the good knives--the Henkels. Until recently, that has never been an issue. Alas Romi recently got his first minor cut with the knives. The irony? It wasn't him wielding the blade, it was me. He was sitting on the counter and I got too close. Oy, the guilt. Romi still has free reign of the knives but my permission is questionable.
One of the things we love most about out little Romala is his innate kindness. In June I was having a difficult time as the anniversary of both my parents' deaths loomed. One day I was speaking with my mom and dad, expressing my displeasure with their departing, when Romi asked me what I was doing. I said that I was talking to my parents because I missed them. He inquired as to why I missed them and I explained, yet again, that I don't get to see them because they died. (Parentless Parenting at its finest.) Romi, clearly not happy that I was not happy, calmly and lovingly reassured me that he would be my mom and dad.
Of course, it's not all sweetness and nice. Sometimes it's deviousness and cleverness. For example, when told that he couldn't play with any more printer paper (you would not believe how much this boy can tear through!), he simply took the printer paper out of the cabinet and then explained that it was fine since it didn't come from the printer. On a recent outing he insisted on taking the his huge jangle of keys. When I asked why he needed them he explained that the Giant grocery card was mandatory. When I pointed out we weren't going to Giant, he informed me that the card is linked to our phone number (which indeed it is) and that he might need the that information. Little bugger took the keys.
Lately, Romi has taken to pretending to be a baby alligator, with Rob and I playing the role of Mommy Alligator and Daddy Alligator. He loves to call us by our first names, bring us "deliveries," and to describe the weather as "bloody hot." (I have to take the blame for that one.)
We had a lovely visit with his cousin Tesssa. Romi fell head over heels for her and tells me a few times a week that he's sad because he misses her and requests her immediate return. We had a wonderful time showing her around Baltimore, chasing fireflies and eating in all of the best spots. We missed out on a baseball game since the O's were out of town, but other than that it was a great visit. One fine but hot day, Steven and Tessa offered to pedal an Inner Harbor Dragon Boat while I relaxed and enjoyed the ride and Romi steered the vessel. I would have captured the moment with my camera, but when I politely asked Romi to turn around and smile, he dismissed me, informing me that he had to concentrate.
