This kid. This hilarious, sweet, raging, non-stop talking, button-pushing do-it-myself kid. People ask me what his personality is like and I have the hardest time answering. Here is my best attempt:
He comes out of his bedroom and asks for “cron” (corn) for breakfast. He covers his favorite car with a blanket so the fruit flies won’t get it. He wets his bed in the middle of the night and wakes up yelling, “Hey! Someone put water in my bed!” He has major temper tantrums if we accidentally flush his poop for him. He also has major temper tantrums if anyone in the house flushes their own poop. Whenever we go through a fast-food drive-thru, he calls it the “chicken bank.”* He yells, “NO!” at Kevin every chance he gets. He is so stubborn we have begun calling him “Donkey.” He spends all day asking if he can make roast beef. Out of cornmeal. He opens the screen door so the birds can come in and use the “bafroom.” He told me once that he found a bone in his hotdog.
Rocco is a tester, like his Daddy, only at this point in his life he is using testing for evil instead of good. He used to come up to Vincenzo, for example, and give him a little push just to see his brother hit the roof. Through many weeks of experimenting with the little push, he discovered all he has to do is go up to Vincenzo and touch him with his little finger to get the same reaction. He looks at me with a devious smile just before he does so. Do you know how hard it is to reprimand someone who’s sharing an inside joke with you?
We have conversations like this throughout the day:
Rocco: I’m going to smell what’s in the toilet.
Rocco [walks over and smells toilet]: Mmmm. That smells good.
Rocco: But it doesn’t taste good!
Or, while I’m cleaning his face:
Rocco: Mom, I don’t like my face.
Me: You mean you don’t like getting your face wiped off?
Rocco: No; I just don’t like my face.
Throughout the day you look over at Rocco and he’s wearing a pair of Kevin’s underwear like it’s a dress. Or he’s wearing my dress like a ghost costume. Or he’s lying with his feet on the couch, head on the ground, belly up to the ceiling, playing with cars like it’s the most comfortable thing in the world.
Rocco. He pisses you off then makes you fall in love with him. And then he does it again.
*It took us awhile to figure out what this elusive “chicken bank” was, as he kept asking to go to one. I finally realized that Kevin had taken him to a McDonald’s drive-thru for his first time (he always orders chicken nuggets), and it looked an awful lot to Rocco like the bank drive-thru I always use. He pieced it together and thus was born the Chicken Bank.