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'V' is for 'Nicolas'

Let me explain. "Nic[h/k]olas" in the book of baby names stands for "Victory".

I thought it was appropriate, given how my wife's card readings prior to his being born kept pointing to a girl. "So be it," I figured. But there was a dream, during the first trimester and prior to the ultrasound that dictated his gender, that made me think otherwise. There I was, riding behind the driver's seat, looking forward at the passenger seat. And there, peeking behind the seat to look at me, a smiling, dimple-faced, blue-eyed boy. And it hit me: that's my boy. And just as I was saying "Hey, little buddy," he takes a swig from an oil can. OK, I haven't yet figured out the oil can part yet, but the remainder served as a portent of what was to come. I figured it was imminent, but maybe the second child (what with the card reading and all). But on the day of the second ultrasound, the nurse could see what the gender was. She asked if we wanted to know. I can wait for such things, but not Lisa. So the nurse points to the "indicator" on the screen and says "Boy." So I don't know what sort of rock-paper-scissors game applies in the spiritual realm, but dream beat cards this time around. And this little victory earned him my vote among the choice of names we had at the time.

Flash forward to November 2007. After months of potty training, Nic finally gets it. Now there was a part of me that thought he would stay savvy and never give in, sort of like my Aunt and cousin who never got a driver's license and therefore never have to worry about designated driving, doing the crappy shift on a road-trip, i.e., the world is my chauffeur. (Wish I were so smart; would have avoided all the crap endured from that DUI back in 1986. But I digress.) I mean, what incentive could have been better than having parents, grandparents, child-care providers et al willingly clean up your messes? And after all, once potty-trained, you'll revert to the same behavior in the final stage of life so why the break in behavior in between? Regardless, we broke his will. And one month later, he's going on his own. Although he likes to be read to when going #2. Whatever relaxes the system, I guess.

So last week was his birthday, a celebration of many things: a celebration of life, good health, beating the cards, and big-boy undies. A victory on may fronts.

Now if I can just get into finishing the kitchen backsplash. But the recessed can lights look good. And the pendant light is coming. Both should be enough to draw your attention away from the backsplash. (Worked for me.)

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