The Godfather

“Pssst, Luc. I’m gonna make you an offer you can’t refuse.”

I’m not really a big fan of kids. I’m only partial to cute ones. Ugly ones I ignore completely. When I hear people go, “Oh, what a beautiful child!” to an infant who can be a gremlin stunt-double, I just roll my eyes. No parent will admit their child is ugly, right? No parent is that objective. And I don’t like crybabies. That’s why I prefer being the uncle or the godfather—the moment the child starts crying, toss him back to the parents.

Thank god Leigh got a good-looking father for her kid. Thank god her family’s side has good genes too. It’s too early to tell, but if Luc gets his mother’s brains and sense of humor, his father’s physique and cool attitude, and a combination of their inclination towards the arts, then he’ll grow up to be babe- and gay-magnet. I’m still undecided from whom Luc should get his sense of style. Mom might make him partial to wearing unmatched socks; dad might make him partial to leg warmers and sweatbands. (Joke, joke, joke.)

I think I’ll have fun trying to fend off the girls from Luc. The guys I’ll let them hover around—but only the cute ones. Mwha-mwha-mwhahahaha.

Darn, that pic makes me look like I’m running for public office.

(And it’s Luc who looks like Marlon Brando.)