Last week I wrote a blog post about Lucas’ “graduation” from eighth grade called They Can’t Stay Little Forever. After he finished reading it he and I started to chat about our lives raising Lucas. I took him down my memory lane of little Lucas and surprisingly, he remembered a lot more than I thought he would.
We started going through his memory bank at what he remembered from his toddlerhood. He remembered counting on his fingers beginning with his pinkie. He would tell us it hurt to count from one to five starting with his pointer finger so he always started with his pinkie. He remembered sitting in his rocking chair at night asking us to “rock a minute” as he held up his pinkie finger as a sign for “one more minute.” They were sweet little memories from a sweet little boy.
We went on to talk about how stinking cute he was as a little one. I told him how the picture in the blog is such a good reminder of how adorable he was. But those looks were a little deceiving. Sometimes Lucas’ name was synonymous with devilish behavior.
And it was Lucas’ devilish behavior that was the launch pad for Lucas to read my sweet, little blog about my darling, little, blond boy.
I walked out of the TV room and into a scene that blasted from the past. Lucas was jumping on the ottoman and I said, “Lucas Ford Pokrywka. GET YOUR FEET OFF THE OTTOMAN!” His response was classic. He stopped jumping and I could see the words, “OH, Shit!” forming on his lips. He slid down, remorseful and this is how our trip down memory lane began.
Lucas told me he remembered the first time I said those words to him, telling him to get his feet off the ottoman. He was doing EXACTLY the same thing I had just caught him doing; jumping on the ottoman. Stan and the kids have often taken that phrase out of context and tried to turn it against me, making me sound a little coo-coo for never wanting feet to be on an ottoman but the God’s honest truth is that I said it in response to jumping on the ottoman.
I decided to see if Lucas could remember anything else about his devilish side. He told me he could remember leaving the house and going to find open cars on our street where he would just climb in and pretend to drive. He told me he remembered stabbing that very same ottoman from the above story with scissors, causing nice little slash marks in it. But to me, the best part about what he can pull from his memory bank is that he remembers what I said to him after he cut up the ottoman. I said, “You’re lucky you’re cute!”
And I truly meant it as I dealt with the little devil we knew, and still know, as Lucas. That saying is as true now as it was back then. Only now, Lucas is a big blond boy.
Oh for the love of Lucas…