Over the summer, and really over a span of many years now, Sam and I often discussed our future children. I think it was the natural progression of our age-old debate about whether or not the idea drinking your own breast milk is gross or not. I remain firm on yes.
Thereafter followed many questions about the way that one could raise a child. Sam is already set on the kinds of lunches her kids will eat and what kind of mom she'll be: a dad mom. I don't know my hypothetical future children as well. But this summer it became obvious that my son would be named Kamalo.
Jesus, my new friend, says he sees Kamalo as a very tall man, 6'2" 280 lbs., who has a suave way with the ladies. "Especially for a man of his carriage," he says. His version of my future son has a low voice with which he pronounces his name: ka-MA-lo.
I have a hard time picturing anything other than a 10 year old boy version of myself. He will probably be mouthy and say things that might be rude if he weren't a child. Kamalo will have to eat everything, picky eating will not be tolerated. So maybe he will become 280 lbs. I also imagine that he'll wear bright colors, have a large collection of sneakers and will always be carrying a toy of some kind. For those familiar with Sam and PamPam, I think Kamalo will be a less brain-dead, more chatty version of Friend. I can see him wearing a spinny hat.
