Palish

For those of us who have remained childless, there looms an idea of the dream baby; you know, the child that fulfills our secret (shameful) narcissitic desires.

I have met my perfect baby. His name is Luca. He lives on...,eh, never mind.
He's the three year old son of a French man and his American wife, who have lived for the past few years in the hippy-heaven that is Montpelier Vermont. In August, they're moving to France.

Now, lots of us wish for a smart, charming, precocious bebe. Luca is bilingual. This earns high points on the pretension-'o-meter, but the best part is that he's totally fluid in his use of either English or French. A question posed in French might be answered in either language. It's his own damned choice, merci beaucoup.

Luca also owns a top hat and castanets, items that can be used separately or in conjunction as he sees fit. By the end of my evening with Luca, I not only wanted a child like him, I wanted to BE him. If only I had been raise by a French speaking family! If only I had had a top hat and castanets to be used separately or in conjunction!

I'm fully aware that my own child, should there ever be one, will wear Barbie night gowns and speak only English. Such limitations are apparent, even now, before said infant exists. Still, I think it's useful to imagine (or meet) your own ideal child, even if you know that, like your ideal life, it (or he) might be someone else's.