The Most Beautiful Sound in the World

I've had what Spongebob Squarepants would call "the suds" for a few days now. So last night was the first night that I really got to talk to Dante in a few days. He's obsessed with his new girlfriend, a hilarious situation. When I asked him why he thought he needed a girlfriend (an older 4th grader, no less!) he said, "I dunno. Never had one before."

Apparently they don't speak to each other. The only time they've ever spoken is when she came up to him and said he was cute and asked his name. They interact with a go-between, Dillan, a classmate of Dante's. Dillan brings her Dante's missives and presents, and Dante apparently hides and watches. When I asked him why he didn't talk to her himself, he said, "Too shy!!" "Is your face in the pillow?" I asked, because he sounded muffled. "Yes," he said, again muffled. Good Lord.

He loves to give presents (he takes after Sister in this way), and he has given her many homemade gifts. For Valentine's Day he cut out a big paper heart, sprayed it with his stepmother's perfume, and wrote "smell" on it and gave it to her. You'd just have to know him, I guess. He's all about the experience of the senses, and a body learner through and through.

His latest obsession is a ring he found at a dollar store which "looks like it should cost a thousand bucks but only costs $1!!" This present is important because he has conceeded to give it to her himself, well, while hiding behind Dillan. So we have talked of little else for the past week--what should he wear, what color should it be, what if all her friends giggle at him (which I've explained is the equivalent of breathing to 10 year old girls, and not to worry).

While we were talking, he did something that pushed me hard into the past. He yawned. I swear, it's the most beautiful sound I've ever heard. He goes hard until he falls down into a heap, so a yawn is usually a sign he's about to collapse. But the way he makes it hasn't changed since he was a baby.

I remembered how he was as a baby, head full of curly black hair, dark eyes and a perpetual frown on his forehead, as if people weren't doing things fast enough for him. When he got tired, he'd furrow that brow and yawn, that intake of breath coming out in a sigh. Then his eyes would mist over and his brow would relax, as if to say, Oh, well, I'll give up and try it again tomorrow. He hasn't changed a bit.

When he sighed out his yawn, I asked, "Are you sleepy, baby?" "No. Well, maybe just a little. But we're gonna try to talk about it again tomorrow."

I love you, Dante.

--Virgil