God love Lucas and God help us ALL!  Lucas, my sweet, little blond boy.  He has one of the kindest souls I have ever met.  He is riotously funny, when he doesn’t try.  He is incredibly intelligent…BUT, and here’s the but.  He is Trouble with a capital T. 

Wherever there’s an accident, Lucas is usually involved.  If something in our house is broken, more than likely Lucas is involved.  When Lucas was little one of my neighbors said to me  “Thank God Lucas is yours.  My husband would kill him.”  (This was after he took a pair of scissors to the leather ottoman in Stan’s office.)  He was a human wrecking machine…but one of the cutest human wrecking machines ever created. 

When Lucas doesn’t try to be funny, he’s hysterical.  He comes up with some funny, funny stuff.  But then he tries to repeat it and it fails.  He hasn’t quite mastered the art of keeping jokes fresh. When Lucas tries to be funny, he’s scary as all get out.  One of my biggest fears, when (or if) Lucas gets his driver’s license, is for him to be be pulled over by the police and have him say “Hello Problem, what seems to be the officer?” or “I swear to drunk, I’m not God.”  He thinks those two lines are just plain ol’ funny.  I think they’re plain ol’ scary.

Luckily, we still have a couple of years where we can, hopefully, pound a little common sense into him.  Otherwise, Lucas might have to wait until he is much less scary before I let him drive me home from the DMV.

Oh, for the love of…LUCAS!