The American Dream

I spent the last 12 months scolding Oski for chewing on Jonah and Riley’s toys. So I finally bought him some new balls. Oski loves his balls. The thing is Jonah loves Oski’s balls too. So now I yell at Jonah for chewing on Oski’s toys. I am all for sharing; it is the swapping of drool I have a problem with. Jonah is thrilled with a particular orange, very bouncy, rubber ball. He has learned how to ricochet the ball off walls. He will throw it and wait for it to come back to him. He will pick it up and do it all over again.

Matt named our son after Jonah Tali Lomu. Lomu is a New Zealand rugby player on its national team called the All Blacks. He’s a Hall-Of-Famer, branded the most intimidating player of the game, and articles read things like attacking prowess and pure power. So one day I will tell Jonah he is named after a 6-foot-5-inch, 274-pound Samoan. Matt wants Jonah to be just like him. Not the beastly Polynesian part, but the global superstar athlete part. It is looking good so far. All the men in the family say things like:

“Look at his hand-eye coordination.”

“What a good arm.”

All the men in the family think things like: Thank God he doesn’t take after his mother. Jonah is supposed to attend a prestigious college in some far away city, preferably on an athletic scholarship, until he signs with some professional sports team and financially supports his parents. Matt tells me: This is the American Dream. I, however, never want to him to leave home.

Sometimes, Jonah overshoots and has to chase the orange ball, crawling fiercely on his hands and knees. The thing is Oski chases it too. So I yell at Oski for chasing his own ball. I am so confused.