My son is exactly like me. He should be, I've done 98% of the raising of him - but there are bits of him that are just undeniably ME.

You may remember a few weeks ago he was fully into the WHYWHYWHYWHYWHY phase. Everything needed an explanation. And an explanation of the explanation. "Why is that plane flying mommy?" "Because it is an aerodymanic feat that includes internal combustion and aelerons and wings and propellers or jet engines." "Oh..." That usually shut him down.

At first, silly me, I actually wanted to explain things to him - I figured that he'd be a genuis by five. But soon I realized that he just wanted to engage in a conversation. Once I turned the tables and why'd him a bit, he quit that gig.

Now he's trying to find his comic voice. He'll say something funny, get a laugh, and repeat it ad nauseum.

"Papaya, Papaya, Papaya, Papaya, Papaya.... I said Papaya. Hahahahahahaha...."

At the table tonight my mother and I were trying to not look at him as he tried to choke himself on his popsicle - shoving it into his mouth with abandon and getting chocolate from his eyelids to his chin. "He's a performer," she said, "don't know where he gets that from."

I can remember being five or six, wanting attention so badly I'd memorize jokes from tv, or from Reader's Digest (I was an early reader) so I could repeat them to adults I wanted attention from. For some reason I could never get enough attention. I try not to over-analyze that.

I've finished a few GREAT books this past week:

Why I Hate Canadians
gods in Alabama

I'm also working on a few others:

How to Succeed in Business Without a Penis
Stein on Writing
The Devil Served Tortellini
Something Rising
Dream Coaching
The Midnight Disease
The Wealthy Writer
The Art of Undressing

But I have back ups upon backups... being a book addict and all.