Ozzie the Prodigy

At the young age of two Ozzie thrived off of applause: his veins would expand for maximum blood flow throughout his tiny pulsating body at the sound of hands smacking with excitement. But when you only showed facial expressions as emotions, he would walk straight up to you and grab you by the wrists and guide your hands together repeatedly, to encourage you to keep the energy alive. Each time he heard clapping and saw his fans' face light up, he would lead them in loud screams of continuous cheering, "yayy! yaayyy!" His energy would remain on high for hours at a time; he would work up quite a sweat so that his black bangs stuck to his hot forehead. My aunt Khel and Grammie were obviously his favorite fans because they'd never grow tired of his shenanigans. My uncle Jeff would watch in amazement at the miracle he was witnessing as his child developed before his eyes; a fresh boost of youth in his own life. For me, I don't get to be there nearly as much as I'd like, but I'd here stories, mostly from Grammie over the phone, trying to keep tabs on the kid, about how Little Z was doing--his new favorite movie, song, dance, his struggle to walk and talk and make his family laugh was never-ending. My Godson, Ozzie is a special kid.

Remember his name: Ozzie Gerald Smith. He can be anything he wants to be.

For instance... I'd just flown into O'Hare from my crazy Maltese adventure, and was ecstatic to get to see my family in Chicago. Though I love them all, I was most excited to see the little man, Ozzie. I drove with Grammie to Khel's house in the morning for an early visit before driving my second-cousins to the Milwaukee Miller Brewery, and as soon as I walked into the living room the wild-thing started running around acting a fool. He started out in a toddler's usual fashion around guests, by showing off his cool toys. No matter my reaction to the plastic dinosaurs or building blocks, he yelped in excitement and threw them backwards over his head. I guessed he wanted to demonstrate their endurance and his arm strength. Afterward, he would stare at me for approval, and proceed to chase after the airborne plastic rangers for another round. After a misfire landed on Grammie's white noggin, I thought he needed a distraction from tossing inanimate objects blindly over his head in a room full of innocent family members. So I pulled my sunglasses down to my eyes and made a sort of "Blue Steel" look to his face. The shine in the sleek-black lenses was all it took to forget the toys. After he studied how I was wearing them for a few minutes, he cried for his turn to wear them, so I put them over his face. Instant rock star. I directed him to the closest mirror so he could admire his new reflection. He knew he was born to be wild.
But as I became conscious of time showing off it's ability to pass without notice, I had to take them back and hit the road. As a last attempt to play with him, I gathered three of his latest projectiles, plastic display lemons, and entertained his imagination with some real life juggling--his rock star Godfather is so cool sometimes.

The next night was full of shock and excitement. Family dinner at Grammie's house is always a great time--pulling up all the chairs from around the house, and setting up the extra table on the side for the youngsters, good wine and beer for whatever you're feeling that night, and the best of all is our favorite of Chicago's Chinese, Plum Garden. This night, gathered in the living room after dinner, Ozzie was yet again the center of attention. Running around, showing everyone what he had created by hooking together two plastic hangers. He demanded applause, as described before with the clapping. "Yayy! Yaayy!" we would all chant in support. I had been waiting for over a week at this point to give him the gift I had bought for his second birthday, while I was in Malta; I knew it was a perfect fit for him. So while he was on the far side of his lap around the living-room for cheers, I laid the t-shirt face up on the carpet so that the monkey's antagonising face was teasing any one looking. The print read, "Malta" across the top, and "Born to be Wild" on the bottom--a perfect fit. When Ozzie was about to lap the shirt, he paused as I guided his vision to the shirt. I'd hoped that he would like it, and I was at least momentarily reassured by his interest in the monkey's face staring back at him. Then his eyes raised above the collar to find my anticipating eyes. Almost as though he were staring for clarification of the shirt's giver, he held the shirt in his tiny hands and stared at me for several seconds.
...the cheering sound waves bouncing off the walls were replaced by bright flashes, capturing the Kodak moment.
Not a second off cue, to end the moment with a light laughter, he smiled and threw it into the air behind his head. By now this was his signature throw. And suddenly I had an idea that I hoped would prove to be entertaining.

I left the room, and returned shortly with my harmonica in hand. At the sound of the first note Ozzie's ears twitched and his head turned like a deer's after hearing a shot somewhere in the distance. He gathered his bearings and baby-ran his way over to my feet. Mesmerized by my seemingly magical ability to produce such a sound, Ozzie wanted to know how I did it. I played several notes, going back and forth between playing a sound and blowing plain air to demonstrate my secret. He quickly latched onto my pinkie with his entire hand and pulled the harp to his mouth. A few spit particles may have went through the 7-hole, but nothing more was played. But after only two or three times through this routine, he mastered the art of the 'blow' and 'draw' for different pitches. The crowd immediately grew impressed with his natural ability as they encouraged him with laughs and cheers, half in disbelief and half in pure entertainment.
He soon had the entire family gathered in the kitchen--it provided the best lighting and stage-like effects. So little Ozzie, standing atop the table beside a bowl a grapes, had a dozen astonished faces and flashing cameras taking snap-shots and videos of our little harmonica prodigy. Grammie's face was flushed with laughter, I had to discourage the chants begging for an encore for fear that she would have a heart-attack from laughing. I had a quick flashback to when I would put her to tears of joy with my Steve Urkel impersonations back in the day. Great times with the family. And I've never been happier to be a part. And to feel especially privileged to have the role of Godfather in such a young and exciting kid's life. Little Ozzie...