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“What if every tow truck ran out of gas?”
“How do bodies get to heaven after they’ve been buried?”
“‘Si usted está contento y usted sabe que aplaudas! That means, ‘If you’re happy and you know it clap you hands!”
It’s not unusual for a period of 15 minutes with Squirts to follow this or some similar line of conversation. Sometimes, it’s like trying to chase popcorn. Just when you think you know where a topic is headed…pop, we’re off in another direction.
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A couple of weeks ago, Squirts, DeDe and I went to dinner with Jeremy, a new friend of ours. Or as Squirts calls him, “coffee Jeremy,” to distinguish him from “cousin Jeremy” (his cousin), and “mean Jeremy”(a less-than-friendly child in his class).
At some point in the meal, Squirts looked up in horror at his mom and me and said, “Jeremy said the ‘Sh’ word!” After looking only a little flustered at being called out by a four-year-old, Jeremy continued the conversation. A few minute later, Squirts interrupted again with “Mommy, Jeremy said the ‘b’ word!”
We smile awkwardly as we pat Squirts hand and encourage Jeremy to continue. Finally, all conversation comes to a screeching halt when Squirts blurts, “But Daddy, Jeremy just said the ‘f’ word!”
We were at Target buying a couple of birthday presents. Squirts had recently turned two and was standing in the cart as he and I headed to the toy section. Yes, I said standing in the cart, OK? And yes, I saw the pictogram with the slash through a child standing in the cart. But the people who draw those pictures have apparently never had a 2-year-old who wanted to stand in the cart. That’s not even the point of the story, so you can stop wagging your finger and read on.
Squirts’ mommy is hunting down a gift in another part of the store while we hit the toy aisle. As Squirts looks in awe and imagines what a life with this many toys would be like, I turn to the wall of Yu-Gi-Oh games we’ve come to pick up. While I try to decipher exactly what a Yu-Gi-Oh is, Squirts rattles on behind me about some toy he needs to take home.
Recently, a Facebook “friend” posted a status update about the inherent evil of humanity. It’s not usually the kind of status update I’m drawn to read, but I was fascinated with how adamantly convinced she was that human beings are, at our core, pure evil.
The moment Squirts was born, a lot of things crossed my mind. I was struck by the enormity of his feet. The volume of his voice seemed to have no limit. The color of his skin was a pink like nothing I’d ever seen before. The fact that we had not selected a middle name suddenly became of utmost importance (in that moment, we gave up trying to decide and gave him two middle names).
