Wednesday, September 12, 2007

Black Ops Baby

Often at the first appearance of acumen in any given area, parents are quick to assign their child with a future occupation. Can catch a ball reasonably well? Pro athlete. Bangs on a toy piano? Musician. Builds tall towers out of blocks? Architect. You get the picture.

My son's going to grow up to be Jason Bourne.

And here are the skills he's displayed which lead me to believe he'll be a very competent, if not wildly successful, agent in a secret CIA assassin program.

He can hide. Really well. I'm not joking either. "Hide" is one of his favorite new games. Alastair will actually go into a closet by himself, close the door, and remain perfectly still and silent until you locate him. This skill will come in handy when sneaking up on his target or another assassin out to get the drop on him.

He's a quick little booger. Put him down in Macy's and watch him bolt through the clothing racks. Five seconds and he's no where in sight(which is why I like to bring backup when shopping). Being quick on his feet will help Little A evade capture from MP's in the US Embassy or local police in some foreign city.

His driving skills are excellent, especially for having never been behind the wheel of an actual car. Adrian took one of his old gaming console/steering wheels and attached it to the window seat in our den. Alastair loves to crank away on that thing, and he's already mastered the hand-over-hand steering. Soon as he's able to reach the pedals, he'll be fully prepared for high-speed chases through the streets of Paris, New York, Moscow, and some small town on the coast of India.

He's got serious eagle eyes. We'll be outside, and Alastair will look up in the sky and spot this teeny-tiny speck. "Ha Coo!" he'll shout (which is his word for every machine that flies through the sky, helicopter or not). From his car seat as we travel down the road, he will locate a basketball hoop blocks away in near darkness. So spotting the bad guys in a crowded London train station or the streets of Tangiers should be no problem at all for my little dude.

He's multilingual. While his vocabulary in his native tongue is impressive, I have heard Alastair speak on several occasions in excellent Mandarin. Or maybe it was Navajo. Or Hindi. It was something.

Of course, silly me, I don't want him to really grow up to become a CIA-trained assassin.

No, I just want him to become filthy rich so he can take care of me in my old age.

1 comment:

JamieSmitten said...

Don't forget that he is also adorably handsome -- which will come in handy for keeping a secretary in every city to handle the paper work!

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