Yesterday morning we attended an annual Santa Breakfast at our church. The cafeteria hall is decked and filled with loud music, games, face-painting, greasy food, ugly sweaters and a visit from a very large man in a red suit.
A couple of years ago, this was a terrifying experience for my son. When Santa arrived, my boy grabbed onto his Dad and wouldn’t let go. Literally. I have a picture of my husband holding his arms straight out to either side, with my son dangling from his neck like a Flavor Flav necklace.
Yesterday wasn’t much different. Because when the DJ said that Santa had arrived and he was parking his sleigh outside, my son suddenly looked very nervous.
But, instead of grabbing Daddy’s neck, he grabbed his own rear end and then turned to the folks sitting at our table and announced, “I need to go poop!”
My son has his annual appointment with his cardiologist this afternoon. Yesterday, when I told him we would be seeing his heart doctor he got a little nervous.
I reassured him, “There won’t be any needles. They’re just going to put some stickers on your belly (an EKG) and then they’ll put some goo on your chest and use a wand to take some pictures (an echocardiogram). It won’t hurt at all.”
Of course, because he’s a boy he then asked, “What kind of goo?”
“Well, it’s kind of like clear jelly, but it’s not sticky. You’ll be able to see your heart on TV and sometimes they add color and you can see your red and blue blood mixing because of the hole in your heart. It’s pretty cool, buddy.”
He asked, “My red blood mixes with my blue blood?”
“Yes, it does.”
He scrunched up his face and said, “Maybe that makes my blood purple.”
My six year old son has been known to say things without thinking them through first. He gets that from me. Poor kid. I can just hear him talking about me when I’m long gone…”My Mother? Well, she gave me the knack for sticking my foot in my mouth. Oh, and my unibrow comes from her too.”
The two of us really do mean well. In his case, the blunders stem from his pure innocence, whereas mine come from my desire to be quick-witted. I may think fast, but I don’t think smart. I want to be funny, but am still learning how to do that quickly and without offending people.
I am a typical parent. I want my kids to be better, more intelligent (my nine year old daughter already has this one covered), kinder, and funnier than I am. I know my son makes me laugh, but most of the time it’s because he has unknowingly hurled an insult at someone. I have always assumed that as he got older and realized what he was saying, I would laugh at him a whole lot less.
But today I sat in on a meeting at his school and listened as his speech therapist told the group how funny he is.
Then his teacher said, “Oh yes, he has a great sense of humor.”
And words like “unbelievable” were thrown around as they all nodded in agreement about his hilarious skills.
Apparently my kid has been making the folks at school laugh without being mean-spirited, and that made me swell with pride.
And, because I frequently have the taste of foot on my tongue, I was also just a little bit jealous.
This drawing is from some of my son’s speech therapy homework from last week. For this assignment, I had to show him the picture then ask him questions about it.
I said, “Look at this. The Mom is just coming in the door and the Daddy and the little girl made a big mess in the kitchen. Now they’re just sitting there eating and watching TV. What do you think will happen next?”
He replied, “Well, maybe the Mom needs to clean it up.”