Final Four, Baby!

Although her mother is an eternal pessimist in these matters, I don't think Ruby ever doubted that UCLA would at least return to the Final Four for the third consecutive year. She proudly wears the colors here. She sometimes looks much older in pictures, and this is one of those, I think. She looks to me as much a miniature version of an undergrad as the toddler she actually is. It doesn't help that she has spontaneously taken to calling us "Mom' and "Pop" as if she actually were nineteen. It will be particularly annoying if she decides to go directly from the terrible twos to teenhood, thereby inflicting maximum pain upon our lives and robbing us of the joy of those golden years between 3 and 12.

At this point, far be it from me to put this past her...

I think that I very well might have felt a bit hurt by this shortening of "Popi", since I have become quite attached to it, particularly because she came up with it herself, but for a bit of coincidence. Not that she won't change what she calls me many more times, but I can live with "Pop" because last week, while I was pinned to the couch by G, The Godfather happened to be on, and during the scene with Brando in the hospital, all alone, Pacino comes in and says "Pop, I'm here."

If it's good enough for Vito Corleone, it's good enough for me.


In any case, it's certain that she will skip blissfully through the week while her mother frets about the athleticism of Memphis and the overall quality of North Carolina. The only thing she has to worry about is timing her fits perfectly to coincide with the games. And if history is any indication, she has nothing to worry about, as she has honed this particular skill to a fine art...