The Child is literal.
We took him to a local store so he could use some of his money to buy a stuffed owl. The woman helping us inquired nicely, “What are you going to name it?”
The Child, in the way of four year olds, did not respond.
She repeated her question. Only then did it occur to me he’d heard her the first time. And that he rejected her premise.
I got down on his level and said, “She asked you what you are going to name it.”
He looked at her and replied, “It’s an owl. It’s called ‘a white owl.'”
It should be no surprise that as we were making our Father’s Day card, we had a similar experience.
As he was working, he said, “That’s a letter ‘I’, and a line, and a line…”
But because I apparently know him as well as the associate at a store, I said, “Tell me about the card. Can you tell me about the drawing ?”
He said nothing.
I pointed and said, “I’ll tell you what I see. I see water. And this part down here could be a canoe. Maybe here are the reeds around the lake.”
Obviously his response was:
“You can’t name it anything. It’s just a regular card. The drawing is some lines, more lines, a weird looking line, and a couple two dots.”
(I was reading this out loud as I was writing, to make sure I quoted him correctly. The correction came from the kid.)
When The Swedelock saw the card this morning, he said, “Oh, that looks like a shark. Or a boat.”
We are both amateurs.
Here’s to the dad I live with, who has a masters in fine arts, and still wants to keep our kid. And also to the dad who raised me, and gave me a sense of humor about these things.
