It is so typical that the moment one begins to doubt the inevitable, the inevitable happens. As in my last post about how Archer refuses to learn English, followed by today’s imminent post about how he has overnight, decided to communicate using words I understand. Of course. He was bound to show me up/prove me wrong immediatley after I called him out. OF COURSE!
Yesterday, as we were leaving the gym, Archer reached his tiny hands toward the sky at one of the many ghetto-birds in permanent rotation over Hollywood, and said, plain as day, “Helicopter!”
I stopped. Dead. In. My. Tracks.
“What? What did you just say?”
Actually, it sounded more like Ha-caw-caw. But whatever. It was close enough.
“OH MY GAWD! He just said Helicopter!” I grabbed the nearest homeless bum, puking in the street outside the Y. “Did you hear that?”
Archer giggled. “Haaaa-caw-caw.”
“Yes! That’s right! Haaaa-caw-caw! You’re so right! You’re so very right!”
Another helicopter appeared. And then another. And Archer kept on with his bad self as the cops whizzed by and sirens went off all around us.
“Haaaa-caw-caw. Haaaaa-caw-caw. Haaaaaaaaaaa-cawcawcawcaw.”
We waited for the ambulances to pass before crossing the street. I was euphoric. Shocked. It felt like Christmas morning! Sure, Archer can say, “Hi” and “Mama”… but DUDE! Those don’t really count. And now? His first word will forever be helicopter. HELICOPTER!
And so we walked on down the boulevard, toward the horizon and a sunset red with smog, below the parting clouds and swirling ghetto birds toward the car, serenading each other with the single greatest, most bad-ass word of all time:
“Haaaw. Caw. Caw!”
P.S. In your face, haters!