Kids Say the Darndest Things

Bee Gees Song of the Day: New York Mining Disaster 194

...or have they given up and all gone home to bed,
thinking those who once existed must be dead.

A recent incident with my nephew reminded me of a time long long ago with my own son. Briefly, we had just moved into a new apartment and I was tending to all the issues that are inherent in that process. Getting phone service, putting up curtains, unpacking boxes. We’ve all been through it. My son, then three years old, wanted some candy. It was 10am and giving him candy felt a little like taking a shot of tequila at noon. Just didn’t seem right. He pressed me with all the slickness of a three year old, but I was unmoved. He gave me a hateful look that amused me and walked slowly away.

The doorbell rang and I promptly forgot the incident. I let in the cable man to hook up our cable. As I was showing him where we wanted the television, my second-born came holding the toy gun he had begged me for the previous Christmas in his hand. His face was as emotionless as a rock as he pointed the gun at my head and quietly went “Pewhhhhhh.” He dropped the gun to his side, still emotionless, and walked silently away.

I looked at the cable man with an apology on my lips. He had stopped in his tracks watching the boy walk away. He didn’t look at me or speak at me again, he hooked up the cable and left without saying a word. The story has become legend as my son works toward a doctorate.

So as I say, as I was visiting my nephew this weekend, I was reminded of that incident.

I was doing a crossword with his Mom and he is never appreciative of the time and attention I’m stealing in that hour and a half that I spend. The phone rang and little Stevie took advantage of a few moments.

Stevie, by the way, is the most attractive, charismatic and engaging little three year old you want to meet.

"Erica. Erica. I'm going to kill your ass." I was pretty sure I heard him correctly, but being very familiar with the attempts at button pushing (I've been pushed by the best), I ignored the statement.

"Erica. I'm going to kill your ass." Yep, I heard it right. I turned around.

"Did you hear me?" with a grin on his face, "I'm going to kill you."

"I heard you, Stevie. Is that a nice thing to say?"

"Yes."

Thinking that I might learn that his mother was really a monster parent, and that once I left the house, she'd pinch and threaten to beat him senseless, I gently asked him, "Who said that to YOU Stevie?"

"My..." he began. Wonderful! He was going to tell me! I was going to get to the bottom of this horrible tale!

"My......BEANSTALK!"

Well then. I’ll wait for him to light fires and disembowel small animals. OR, he’ll become an astrophysicist. It’s early yet.