Zach, my nephew

I spent most of the short summer break I had in Kuya Don’s (my cousin’s) house in Pasig, with Ate Ann Mae, his wonderful wife, and the cute, little baby that goes by the name of Zach.

In their house, I watched TV, read (finally!) Steinbeck’s Grapes of Wrath, and slept rather comfortably during lazy afternoons. On certain occasions, though, I’d find myself cuddling my nephew (Zach is my second-degree nephew, right?). He’s only nine months old, and while he seemed to have mastered the art of crawling, he has yet to master the art of spoken language. I determined to teach him a few things. I thought it exciting that his first words should not be da-da or ma-ma or any of those repetitive mononsyllabic combinations.

I wanted him to say, “Ignorance of the law excuses no one.”

That was what I’ve been telling him, and everytime I’d utter those words, he would beam with a smile that can melt the icebergs in Antarctica.