Our first night in Corsica, we went to the hotel restaurant for dinner. Ignatz was sitting between me and the Sniglet, so I asked him to read the kids’ menu to his little brother. The menu was in French, but it had Italian and German translations under each item. Ignatz didn’t notice them, though, he just translated it himself. I don’t know how, he’s never taken any French classes, and has only been to France once, for four days when he was eight or so. He’s had a year of Latin, maybe that helped. He is so amazing. How many kids – how many adults can do that? He wasn’t impressed, though. He shrugged off my praise, and was really embarrassed that he hadn’t noticed the translations.
Sigh. That is so him. He fails to notice what’s right in front of his face, but at the same time he’s capable of such casual brilliance. And he takes the failures completely to heart, but disregards the brilliance just as completely.
Song du jour of the day: God Bless the Child, by Billie Holiday.