Giannita Banana

Gianna’s four, going forty!” I exclaimed.  Her name, in Italian, means a gift from God.  Indeed.  She brought the gift of fun, laughter, and mischief into our little world.  From the moment she first saw the light of day, she garnered oohs and ahs from family and friends who were amazed at the uncanny way she picked up the physical traits of her Filipino genes, far more than her Italian, French, and American genes.

His Papa (Lolo) puffed like Foghorn Leghorn, the cartoon.  That’s because in Gianna’s Filipino DNA, her Papa’s genetic blueprint outranked everyone else’s.  But wait, she may have inherited her Papa’s nose, ears, curly lashes, wavy hair, and her facial beauty spots, but still, the general impression is that she’s like me, a little LettyLo. 

Her dad rambled on.  “She can’t have enough of shoestring potatoes, freshly squeezed orange juice, home-made soup, scalding hot, bitter chocolate — and sits for hours doing art and craft.”  Like me.

“This is eerie, Mom,” my son continued.  “She’s already showing signs of a strongly-willed character.”

Oops.

Curious and inquisitive, she may veer towards being stubborn, proud, and impatient.  We need to direct her zeal towards noble grounds, build up her confidence so that she is not cowed into silence or pushed to go against her will.  She must be comfortable and unmoving in saying no when her gut tells her to, and hopefully, that would keep her far from harm’s way and stay secure and uncompromised.

She shows no sign of fear, which freaks me out.  Every time she holds a real, hair-splitting, sharp, and glistening kitchen knife, I get this electric tingle under my arm.  “But she’s only four,” I gasped.  She’d chuckle and look at me, so taken by my bulging, horrified eyes.  “Nonna, you can be my sous chef.” She’d laugh again as I gingerly sliced some mushrooms that she placed on my slicing board.  “Fold your fingers, Nonna, so you don’t cut yourself,” she whispered.  I was happy to obey.  

Her mom has kept a journal from the time she was born.  Every night, she writes down everything that she might have forgotten to say in the course of the day or something that she would like to record for posterity.

I wrote about how kilig to the bones she was to play make-believe.  She ran down to my room and pulled me to bed so that we could create a play tent out of my doona cover.  “This is so cool, Nonna!” she shrieked.  I raised my leg to make a “roof” while she pulled out a flashlight so we can read some books from under the covers.  “Shhhh, if we keep quiet, Mom will never see we’re inside our tent so we can play longer and stay awake, too,” she winked.

Gianna, you crackle like a warm fire.  I hope you remember these moments in time, aside from the wishes I keep close to my heart and haven’t had a chance to tell you:

• Don’t grow up too fast.  Each one of us has seen the verve and spirit you possess within you.  Can I help it if I want you to stay pat as our little sunshine girl?

•  Don’t break your mother’s heart.  Your mom worries about every obstacle and challenge that you may face someday.  Can anyone fathom the anxiety that grips every mother involving her daughter?  Don’t defy her, don’t make her cry.  It’s painful enough to have to be thrown at the deep end and be caught off guard.

• Your parents will always be there, for you.  Difficult as it may seem to understand them, just think how much they love you.  They would change the world, if they could, for you.

 â€¢ Develop good, genuine friends.  Bad people will attract you with opulent things and promises.  Be careful.  Heed the first warning voice you hear in your heart.   

• Learn to defend yourself.  Scream, kick, and run as fast as you can from strangers, from the wicked, from those who make someone’s hair stand on end. Stay alert and keep your guard up.   

• Nurture and develop what brings out the goodness in you.  Don’t waste it. 

• Don’t sell yourself short.  Wait for true love, for someone who’d enrich your life, worthy to be your lifetime partner.  Whether the winds turn brutal or gentle, you can count on him to be by your side.

I keep these in my core, for now.  Gianna is only four.