#144 As Old as Dinosaurs.

 You know how we as parents will make jokes about ourselves, or rather, we joke about our kids and how they might view us? We might say,  “Back when I was a kid and dinosaurs roamed the earth...” I’m starting to think I need to clarify that joke. 

I’m going to keep these children’s names anonymous. They can read, and occasionally DO read this blog. (In case you’re wondering, that rules out Tommy because he can’t read, and Sammy, because he doesn’t read this blog). I’m not positive, but I think one (or both) of them might appreciate a little anonymity.

Now, I’m not sure what context I missed as I walked in on this conversation, it might clear the whole misunderstanding up. But this is what I did hear:

Child 1: They didn’t have printers back then!

Child 2: Yes, they did!

Child 1: No, they didn’t. 

Child 2: Yes. They did. They had prints. They printed stuff. Dinosaur prints? 

Child 1 (as though that presented a logical argument now stumping him or her): Huh. Oh yeah. 

Child 2: See? They had printers back then.

Child 1 (now convinced): Yeeeeah. 

It’s a joke. It’s 100% not possible that I, or your father, anyone you know, or anyone you did know, or heard mention of, ever lived when dinosaurs roamed the earth. We are joking when we say that. No human ever lived with dinosaurs. And despite (un)popular belief, humans invented printers. 

#143 Weeding

 As I was going over Jack’s lesson with him, it was time for him to answer questions about the story I had just read. You know, the part where you learn whether or not your child was paying attention. 

“So, Jack. What would the little girl do in the garden?”

Jack looked lost, but he gave it his best effort. Most stories we read together try to send subliminal messages about how reading is good, kids love it, it’s fun to do everywhere, yada yada, so he gave it a shot, “Rrrrread a book?” he asked skeptically. 

(He hadn’t been paying attention.) “No, good try. Listen again to this part of the story as I read it. ‘She would weed in her garden’...” 

“Oh. Weed a book?” 

You know how you never want to burst out laughing at a child when you’re trying to teach him something and he makes a simple and honest mistake? It’s hard. It’s very, very hard. 

#142 Go Fish

 Last Summer we went from being a no-pet family, to owning two fish—in two separate fishbowls. A goldfish, and a beta fish. 

Jack had won “Freedom” at a 4th of July  carnival and was doing a spectacular job of keeping the goldfish alive. Tommy had been given “Sea World” for his third birthday (and, quite frankly, did nothing to keep him alive).

One fateful morning I awoke to sadness. There was Freedom, dead on the counter. The three-year-old culprit had awakened before everyone and had been overcome with temptation. He had wanted to play with the fish—like, PLAY with the fish—the way three-year-olds play (not the way fish play, because, let’s face it, fish don’t play).

Ah, poor Freedom... and Jack; poor Jack. It was a hard day.

That story gives an ounce of context for the following. 

Sea World was dead—in his bowl—but dead. (And, no, I hadn’t been relying on Tommy to keep the fish alive.)

Naturally suspicious, I turned my interrogation to Tommy. 

Me: Tommy, do you know what happened to Sea World?

Tommy: (eyebrows furrowed in sincere contemplation)(eyebrows un-furrowed in conclusion)(also, nonchalantly): Probably someone came in and shot him with a gun. 

....

....

Me: Tommy, that’s ridiculous. There would be fish guts all over the place. Not to mention, a shattered bowl. There’s no way a bullet would kill a fish without destroying its bowl into a thousand tiny pieces—we’d be seeing rock, glass and guts everywhere! And think about it, if somebody really had it out for your beta—which is highly unlikely—poisoning the water would have been WAY easier and much more probable. Spray a little windex and BAM. The job is done  

Ah, I’m just kidding. I didn’t say any of that. But I thought all of it. Really, I had no response... but a smile.