A Thoroughly Short Post

Fresco. You are three today. 3.

You weight 35 lbs and measure 38 inches and you are 3.

Your older brother has been needling you for weeks, as brothers do.

“Why don’t you try some Parmesan cheese?” he will say, “it is so tasty! You will like it!”
“Maybe when I’m three,” you answer.

Except you say “free.” Until recently, when he started to read words, your brother also said his “th”s as “F”s. Now he is correcting himself. So you are correcting yourself too.

“Try some ham,” he says. “You would like it. It’s salty.”
“Um,” you reply, “when I’m fr-fr-THHHree.”

“When do you think you will use the potty?” he says. (He didn’t get the memo about NOT TALKING ABOUT POTTIES.)
“Um, when I’m THHHthree.”

Good morning Fresco! You are three! I have purchased eight pounds of ham for you and your potty awaits.

You are a boy of such bluster and boist that I am genuinely lost when you panic. You are scared of bugs and it surprises me every time. I think you are joking. You have been running to keep up and shouting to be heard since approximately 14 days after you were born. It is shocking to see you crumple in tears because of a fruit fly. I understand it. But it is shocking.

You want what your brother has. You will never have it. You will always have what you have.

What you have: a wicked sense of humour and an inborn testa dura (hard head), which, combined with the resilience of a younger brother who must try, try, try again because the odds are in your favour that someone will tire of you asking and just give you the toy you want already, makes you a force. A Force.

You have a keen dramatic ability. You will calmly and carefully position yourself on the hard cement and then wail about your outrageously bad luck, so that it *looks* to all the world like you fell there in your anguish. Someday you will understand April Fool’s Day and I am stocking up on gin as we speak.

What is most infectious about you is your joy. You kiss and hug and love everything. You grin as though your face would break. You exclaim. Now that you have words and the ability to temper your volume, the exclaiming is wonderful instead of soul-numbing. We’re glad we stuck with you, because to hear you say, “I’m blowing BUBBLES and they’re all RAINBOWY and I LOVE THE BUBBLES I WILL KISS THEM! OH! I got bubble on my NOSE!” (from outside) is to truly understand what happiness is.

To know you is to love you. And I do. Happy birthday!

I Am Iron Man

(as always, the advice to turn down your volume applies to videos of Fresco)

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