So the last few posts have been real downers.
Oy vey iz mir, blah, blah, blah...
Wanna know what keeps me up? The cultural blender that is my growing guy, my young son.
He's soaking up things like old "Muppet Show" episodes, his personal experiences, all the kiddie books we read to him, the music he hears, the stuff he learns at his preschool (Week three of Montessori and he's getting into the swing of things, finally), and all other major and minor things that cross his path. Since he's very verbal, it all comes out in one way or another through his words, and at oddly, sometimes ironically opportune times.
Three recent instances:
- When he was riding in the car with me after school, I asked my son what happened for him to be dressed in another set of clothes other than what he came to school in. He is on the verge of being potty trained, and this is his first full week in cloth undies - but his teacher had given me the Ziploc with his soiled clothes when I picked him up from school. So I knew what had happened, I just wanted to hear it from him. My son let out a preschooler sigh and said "I crapped my pants."
I nearly drove off the road, and I tried not to laugh. Later, when I told my husband what our darling son had said, he blamed it on our friend Edie...which is (pardon me) complete crap, and I called him on it. Dan has only been saying this around the little guy since we've been trying to potty train the kid, which has been for two years off and on now. My mother told me later that blame doesn't matter when potty training the kid is at stake - what matters is that he told it like it was. Yeah, riiiiight...
- At school pickup one afternoon, I talked with my son's teacher for a moment. She told me that he looks like such a sweet, innocent little guy, and then he comes out with a comment that is completely disarming. The real kicker is that he knows when he's delivering a zinger - what can I say, he was born with it. The latest from him to his teacher is when he told her she seemed to be a little fussy. My father is convinced that all of this comes straight from BOTH me and Dan.
Read the following. You be the judge...
- So I took my son to Hooters once this past summer. There was a counselor get-together there, largely because our counselor ranks wanted to expose our Israeli counselor to the atmosphere of the place. My husband was away on a business trip, and I couldn't get a sitter, so I took the little guy along, figuring that other families would be there, too. And I was right. The food was good, too. My son spent most of our time there running around on the big wraparound porch on the place, schmoozing with other kids his own age. He also managed to crash into the legs of one of the tightly clad waitresses, eliciting a "Nice move" comment from a contingent of male counselors.
Recently, I was meeting with the educational director of the synagogue where I will be teaching religious school once a week. I brought my son along, and he went across the hall to play in a playroom filled with all sorts of toys. While discussing the year's curriculum with the director, my son bounced into the office with the makings of a plastic play hamburger. He laid out all the pieces and put them together, bun, patty, lettuce, tomato, cheese, complete with running commentary on the construction process. He finished putting it all together by saying, "Just like at Hooters!"
The director's reaction: "WHAT?????"
So I had to explain.
As another Montessori mom said to me earlier, my son is a pistol.
If it weren't for the violent imagery, and the fact that once again, way too many shootings are occurring in this corner of the universe, I'd say that maybe what we need right now amongst the lawmaking and money-manipulating grownups are a few pistols like my son who aren't afraid to tell it like it is. To tell someone tying up FEMA dollars that they've crapped their pants big time. To rail at someone granting permits and clearance that they are a bit fussy.
Who knows, maybe if things get going in the right direction, it'll be Hooters' burgers for everyone. On rebuilt N'Awlins area dollars.