RAISING MY HAM

     I have a grandchild.  Thank God!  Just one and he will be seven by August this year.  As he grows, the more I feel the need to preserve some of his younger years - for my sake!  Not for sentimentality but to remind me of times when he was so much joy and excitement in our lives.  You see, Little Guy is starting to be such a smarty pants that I may one day strangle him.  I can easily blame dementia or any some such geriatric disease.  If that fails, there can always be the voices whispering in my ears.

     Take this afternoon for example.  I come home from a truly long and hot drive and decide to curl up in bed.  With the air-conditioner going full blast, I decide to play online games.  He comes into the room and asks to nap with me.  That is always fine as long as he does not overlap into what I hope to accomplish.  This time, I just want some peace and quiet.  Without my realizing it, Little Guy keeps talking non-stop.  I may have mastered the art of tuning out people around me but there is just no defeating Little Guy.  Not contented with just talking, he has to nudge me and make me look at him. 

     What he asks is, “What is four million, Lala?”

     “Four million!”  I answer matter-of-factly.

     “No, I mean One million then Billion then Trillion! What is Four Million?” 

     “Oh, okay.  Quadrillion!”  I answer with smug certainty. 

     “Then what follows?”

     “Quintillion!”  I am now treading on uncertain waters.

     I have to find a way to stop any demand for further enumeration because I don’t think I can wing this  with confidence!  Would it be Sextillion, Septillion, Octillion, Nonillion and Decillion!  Oh, God!  Where can I get all these information in an instant? 

     So, to distract from the questions, I explain with assumed confidence that one billion is a thousand million and one trillion is a thousand billion and so on and so forth.  I just hope Little Guy does not repeat this unverified information to his teacher.  Or, at the very least, does not remember all these information I grasp from the wind just to answer his queries.  Especially since I could hardly get past ten thousand pesos when I count; one reason I always use as my excuse for not getting rich. 

                                                  My Ham at three and bordering on obesity! 

     Every day with Little Guy is becoming more of a challenge.  An old standby way out is to make him look it up in the dictionary or to “google it”.  But even the dictionary and Google cannot answer all the wonders in his mind. 

     I would just love to go back to the days when he called The Hubby “Edgy” and pronounced clock “ack”; days when we occupied ourselves with memorizing numbers one to one hundred. 

                                        Ham, the Mutant Ninja Pig (as we call him!)

     These days, I still score points against him; like the time when his mom pretended hurt when he kept on talking about his crush in school.  He came to me for aid.  I told him to hug his mom and say, “I am sorry, Mommy!  Please forgive me!  You are the girl of my dreams!”   Suddenly, mischief overtook me and I added, “and, of my nightmares!”  Of course, Little Guy repeated what I taught him to say verbatim.  The mom could not help but laugh and all was forgiven.

                                                                Ham and Lala 

     All the same, I dread the time when he will discover that Lala does not have all the answers to his questions! That, despite his provision of a sword or weapon and the occasional cape, Lala is not the superwoman he thought her to be!