Paging Anthony

Mark asked me very excitedly today if I wanted to see his signature. Apparently, he's been practicing, in case he needs to sign any important papers.

"Sure!" I replied. I'm on board with any attempt at improving those chicken scratches he calls handwriting.

"It looks so cool," he confided. "It's just one letter. A giant letter A."

I stopped walking and looked at him. "Why an A?" I finally asked. "Your name starts with an M."

"I know, but I can't write M's very well," he said. "But I can write a cool A."

"But your name doesn't start with A," I repeated, as though it might suddenly make sense to him.

He just shrugged, and we kept walking.

And then, in light of the old if-ya-can't-beat-'em,-join-'em adage, I provided another solution.

"Maybe you can change your name," I proposed. "To something that starts with A. Like Aaron."

He lit up at that, and started bouncing around. "Yeah!" he shouted. "Or Anthony. I like Anthony."

I held out my hand to him. "Well, then Anthony it is," I told him. "Unless you're from New Jersey. Then it's Ant-ny. Yo, Ant-ny, let's go get some lunch."

I will really miss the days when he grows up and solutions aren't always so simple. But until then, Ant-ny and I certainly enjoyed our lunch.