DarkAztek
12-02-2006, 12:03 PM
I am seriously looking forward to being a father. I can think of nothing that I want more right now. I would love to have a daughter or a son. ...When I happened to mention this to one of my co-workers at lunch yesterday, he smiled to himself like only a person who has actually experienced children can. He knew all about the horrors and he told me about them in graphic detail. I told him that I expected these things and that I was hoping that he could tell me some of the more rewarding moments of parenthood.
He gave me the following story... And it is so good, I figured I should share it with all of NL.
(Note: for this to work, you'll have to picture me as a 40-something year old Caucasian male English professor).
And now I will bring you some wisdom from the World of the Seven Year Old Boys.
My seven year old son is of the age when one amasses a fantastic knowledge of animals of all shapes and sizes. I sometimes wonder who decides that in first and second grade that we should be learning solely about these animals. I wonder even more who decides that we should stop learning about them and WHEN we should stop learning about them, but that is beside the point, and I will continue with my anecdote.
My son and I were sitting at the breakfast table this morning, him with his bowl of Life cereal and me with my low fat oat bran granola bar, when a fantastic looking bird happened to land on a tree branch outside the window of our breakfast nook.
"That's a very interesting looking bird," I mused.
My son, without a moment's hesitation, responded:
"Red breasted grosbeak."
I was shocked and amazed at the accuracy and rapidness of his response. I had forgotten the long ago time in kid world when things like this were common knowledge. I continued eating in silence with him for several minutes. Presently, another bird alighted the branch.
Calculatingly, I crooned my neck sideways and said in a suggestive tone, "That's ALSO a very interesting looking bird."
"Black capped chicadee," he responded through bites of his milk-saturated cereal.
I continued to be shocked and perplexed at the wealth of knowledge my son seemed to have about birds for several more minutes, when my son interrupted my mid-morning reveries with a question.
"Daddy? Did yoooou knoooow that snakes aren't slimy?"
I thought it out for a minute and decided that, well, yes, I did know that snakes were slimeless, and responded so.
"Do you know what IS slimy, dad?"
"Well," I said, "frogs and toads, I guess..."
"Well, yes," he said, leaning over the table exasperated, "but do you know what ELSE is slimy?"
"Well...no," I said, and wondered what other animal my son could enlighten me on from his seven year old wisdom.
He breathed in, crinkling his face in disgust, and responded slowly: "Girls."
He gave me the following story... And it is so good, I figured I should share it with all of NL.
(Note: for this to work, you'll have to picture me as a 40-something year old Caucasian male English professor).
And now I will bring you some wisdom from the World of the Seven Year Old Boys.
My seven year old son is of the age when one amasses a fantastic knowledge of animals of all shapes and sizes. I sometimes wonder who decides that in first and second grade that we should be learning solely about these animals. I wonder even more who decides that we should stop learning about them and WHEN we should stop learning about them, but that is beside the point, and I will continue with my anecdote.
My son and I were sitting at the breakfast table this morning, him with his bowl of Life cereal and me with my low fat oat bran granola bar, when a fantastic looking bird happened to land on a tree branch outside the window of our breakfast nook.
"That's a very interesting looking bird," I mused.
My son, without a moment's hesitation, responded:
"Red breasted grosbeak."
I was shocked and amazed at the accuracy and rapidness of his response. I had forgotten the long ago time in kid world when things like this were common knowledge. I continued eating in silence with him for several minutes. Presently, another bird alighted the branch.
Calculatingly, I crooned my neck sideways and said in a suggestive tone, "That's ALSO a very interesting looking bird."
"Black capped chicadee," he responded through bites of his milk-saturated cereal.
I continued to be shocked and perplexed at the wealth of knowledge my son seemed to have about birds for several more minutes, when my son interrupted my mid-morning reveries with a question.
"Daddy? Did yoooou knoooow that snakes aren't slimy?"
I thought it out for a minute and decided that, well, yes, I did know that snakes were slimeless, and responded so.
"Do you know what IS slimy, dad?"
"Well," I said, "frogs and toads, I guess..."
"Well, yes," he said, leaning over the table exasperated, "but do you know what ELSE is slimy?"
"Well...no," I said, and wondered what other animal my son could enlighten me on from his seven year old wisdom.
He breathed in, crinkling his face in disgust, and responded slowly: "Girls."