Embarrassing the Kids One Column at a Time
From time-to-time, I run into folks who read this column out in public. Aside from noticing that on average readers of this column are smarter and better looking than the general population, I’ve noticed another trend. Readers of this column will often remark that they feel like they know the boys from reading about them.
He also gets carried away when listening to music. He’ll start bopping his head or attempting to “sing” along with it all of a sudden. We were in church recently and I looked down at the pew to see him dancing back and forth, hands in the air like a flower child at Woodstock. I should point out we were singing a traditional, pipe organ accompanied hymn at the time. To him, it might as well have been “I’m a Believer” by the Monkees.
To a great extent this is probably true. And since the boys often clam up in the company of strangers, most people would know the boys better from reading about them than meeting them.
But there’s also another side to this. After all, I’m selecting certain stories to share and one memorable and/or ridiculous story could have an outsized impact on forming someone’s impression of a kid.
Because of this, I’ve debated about whether or not I should include stories at times. I mean, the boys will eventually grow up and run into people who have read about them. What if some of these stories prove to be embarrassing?
Oh well.
This brings us to the 2-year-old. He’s currently the most entertaining person in our house. His smile and zeal for EVERYTHING is contagious and his impish antics are endlessly amusing and uncensored.
He was playing tag with his uncle over the holidays and when he realized he couldn’t get away, he dropped to the ground, rolled over, and played possum. That looked funny enough, but he added the priceless details of rolling his eyes back, opening his mouth, and faking convulsions while he laid on the ground. Where a 2-year-old comes up with this is beyond me.
He also gets carried away when listening to music. He’ll start bopping his head or attempting to “sing” along with it all of a sudden. We were in church recently and I looked down at the pew to see him dancing back and forth, hands in the air like a flower child at Woodstock. I should point out we were singing a traditional, pipe organ accompanied hymn at the time. To him, it might as well have been “I’m a Believer” by the Monkees.
Most recently the 2-year-old put his own little stamp on an encounter with an out-of-state license plate. We were in the van and passed a car with a Kansas license plate and this happened:
WIFE: Who can tell me the capital of Kansas?
6-YEAR-OLD: Not me.
4-YEAR-OLD: I don’t know.
2-YEAR-OLD: Penis!
For the record, there’s no establishing order in a car full of boys once you’ve spontaneously guffawed like Goofy at something one of them said.
So there you have it. A brief collection of stories to one day embarrass the 2-year-old. Que sera, sera. But, if you run into us around town, do me a favor. Don’t ask the 2-year-old what the capital of Kansas is.