A Few Anecdotes
Time for a few anecdotes, I suppose.
My eldest son went to school the other day...a real-live gubmint school. He went with his mom and brother to a local school where a friend of ours is a teacher for Make A Candy House Day. Adults usually refer to these creations as Gingerbread Houses, but children know they're really called Candy Houses.
So later that day, while seated around the lunch table, Jonathon pulled something out of his pocket and said, "See what I brought to school today." It was his pocketknife. Oops. He quickly clarified that he didn't tell anyone about it, which we quickly confirmed as the right thing to do. Actually, we hastily said not to bring the blooming thing to school tomorrow, lest he get hisself arrested. I read recently about a boy who pulled a plastic knife out of his pocket during lunch to cut his food, and he was immediately suspended without warning (and, apparently, without any thought, either). Yikes.
Code Red Alert Warning Important Message: If you are my automobile insurance agent (you know who you are), please skip to the next paragraph. Speaking of the eldest son's adventures, he helped me pull the van out of the snowbank yesterday. How the van got in (and couldn't get out of) the snowbank is definitely a Slap Your Palm to Your Forehead Anecdote for another time, but I operated the tractor and Jonathon sat in the van by himself and manned the steering wheel and brake pedal. I figure that if my dad could drive the family's tractor when he was 6, then my six-year old can drive the family's 12-passenger van, right? Yikes, again.
Jonathon has been full of anecdotes recently. The other morning, I was telling him that we were going to Grandpa's house and that uncle Derek would be there. He thought for a minute and said, "That means if Daddy is there, and uncle Derek is there, and Grandpa is there, there will be three Daddies." I explained that uncle Derek doesn't have any children. So he thought for another minute. "So, does that mean he is a Mama?" Uh, no, not quite. This reminded me of that old gag-letter to "My Dear French Male Canadian Son Claude," but I couldn't find it online, so that's just too bad for you.
Last winter, James took a liking to wearing long-sleeve, button-down, flannel shirts and jeans. He wore them every day. In fact, he liked them so much, he wouldn't stop wearing them even when the weather turned warmer. We got to June, and I would say to him, "James, its 90 degrees outside, and very humid." "But I want to wear a long-sleeve shirt with buttons." Okay, son.
About the end of July, he caught on and started wearing shorts and short-sleeves. But now we can't get him to switch back to winter gear. I tell him, "Its the Polar Express, ol' boy; its 9 degrees outside and the wind-chill factor is well below zero." "But I want to wear shorts." Okay, son.
Boys. Gotta love 'em.
My eldest son went to school the other day...a real-live gubmint school. He went with his mom and brother to a local school where a friend of ours is a teacher for Make A Candy House Day. Adults usually refer to these creations as Gingerbread Houses, but children know they're really called Candy Houses.
So later that day, while seated around the lunch table, Jonathon pulled something out of his pocket and said, "See what I brought to school today." It was his pocketknife. Oops. He quickly clarified that he didn't tell anyone about it, which we quickly confirmed as the right thing to do. Actually, we hastily said not to bring the blooming thing to school tomorrow, lest he get hisself arrested. I read recently about a boy who pulled a plastic knife out of his pocket during lunch to cut his food, and he was immediately suspended without warning (and, apparently, without any thought, either). Yikes.
Code Red Alert Warning Important Message: If you are my automobile insurance agent (you know who you are), please skip to the next paragraph. Speaking of the eldest son's adventures, he helped me pull the van out of the snowbank yesterday. How the van got in (and couldn't get out of) the snowbank is definitely a Slap Your Palm to Your Forehead Anecdote for another time, but I operated the tractor and Jonathon sat in the van by himself and manned the steering wheel and brake pedal. I figure that if my dad could drive the family's tractor when he was 6, then my six-year old can drive the family's 12-passenger van, right? Yikes, again.
Jonathon has been full of anecdotes recently. The other morning, I was telling him that we were going to Grandpa's house and that uncle Derek would be there. He thought for a minute and said, "That means if Daddy is there, and uncle Derek is there, and Grandpa is there, there will be three Daddies." I explained that uncle Derek doesn't have any children. So he thought for another minute. "So, does that mean he is a Mama?" Uh, no, not quite. This reminded me of that old gag-letter to "My Dear French Male Canadian Son Claude," but I couldn't find it online, so that's just too bad for you.
Last winter, James took a liking to wearing long-sleeve, button-down, flannel shirts and jeans. He wore them every day. In fact, he liked them so much, he wouldn't stop wearing them even when the weather turned warmer. We got to June, and I would say to him, "James, its 90 degrees outside, and very humid." "But I want to wear a long-sleeve shirt with buttons." Okay, son.
About the end of July, he caught on and started wearing shorts and short-sleeves. But now we can't get him to switch back to winter gear. I tell him, "Its the Polar Express, ol' boy; its 9 degrees outside and the wind-chill factor is well below zero." "But I want to wear shorts." Okay, son.
Boys. Gotta love 'em.
posted by brandywine on Saturday, December 22, 2007
2 Comments:
Hehehe... delightful anecdotes! I'm glad your son didn't get arrested and didn't crash the van.... did you read about the two-year old that crashed their parents' car and how difficult it was for them to explain it to the insurance agent? :)
You were sounding downright Wodehouse-ish by the end of the post:) Yay for kid stories!
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