Baby Einstein? No, I've Got Baby Cato

I love to play blocks with my sixteen-month old daughter. Sometimes she helps me complete my architectural masterpieces by clumsily sitting a new piece atop the structure. Her motor control doesn’t yet rival Jackie Chan, so I have to hold the lower part of the structure so it won’t collapse. After the piece is in place, she looks at me triumphantly, as if to say: “Look out Eero Saarinen -- there’s a new sheriff in town!”

At other times, she isn’t interested in building. She toddles over, a pint-sized Godzilla, stretches both arms waaaaaaay back, and then pounces on the structure, knocking the components of my finely crafted tower helter-skelter. She doesn’t talk yet, but I just know what she is thinking:

“Carthago Delenda Est!”

This is simply more proof that she will grow up to be an inspiring orator and leader of men.