I’m in New York City. I’m filming a movie. I’m living the dream. I miss my Bride and Boy.
I call home at 10 every morning and night. It’s seven their time. The Boy is actually eager to get on the phone with me. That’s a first for him. He grabs the phone from BB and proudly exclaims, “I go poo poo Daddy!”
I have been having conversations on set with the smartest and most talented people I have ever met. Natalie Portman told me how she loves Conan O’Brien and how funny he is. Vincent Cassel has described the corruption in Italian politics. Mila Kunis has sung the praises of Skyping. The Director Darren Aronofsky recommended a Museum that explores cosmology throughout the ages. The make up artist (so not to be completely name dropping) has related her amazing stories of Greece in the ‘70s.
I would rather discuss poo poo with Boy. “Daddy can’t go poo poo when he is away from home.” I confided. This was way too much information even for him. There was an awkward pause and then suddenly he continued, “I go big poo poo Daddy! Two poo poos!” Yes, he actually counts his output. I would have it no other way. Besides he’s learning to count.
Last night at 10, after being away for 10 days, he finally said, “Please come home Daddy.” My heart sank and soared all at once. “No more Movie.” He added for good measure. I tried to steer the conversation back to bowel movements but as usual he is too smart for me.
It’s all very good news. I was supposed to work six days on a big feature film. Now that I am here they seem to like me and keep giving me more days and more lines. It may not be the BIG break I’ve been waiting for but it is a sizeable break. A fracture.
Still, when I close my eyes in between takes all I see is my family. The boy is going poo poo on the potty and the BB and I are doing the “poo poo on the potty” song and dance and stealing smooches.