I have a 5 year old son and the things he says can be quite amusing. He is always paying close attention, even when it appears as if he’s off in his own little world. His recall memory is completely and utterly terrifying. I have no idea how this child remembers the things that he does. Here are a few stories detailing the crazy and funny things he has said over the past year.
I try not to swear around my son, but it occasionally happens. Let’s face it…I was a sailor, and I can cuss like I’m drunk and have a horrible case of Tourette’s. For the most part, I do pretty well. The word that slips out the most, especially while driving, is “Douchebag.”
One Saturday afternoon, the kid and I were out getting a few things from Wal-Mart. My wife Darla Carmichael was exhausted from being pregnant, so we left her at home to rest in the quiet and take a nap. It was in the fall, and Starfucks had their pumpkin spice latte on the menu. My wife LOVES pumpkin spice lattes. We decided to pick one up for her on our way home as a surprise, despite how much I loathe Starfucks.
The part to remember here is that I always call my oldest son “Buddy."
We pull into the drive thru and order. The male whorista takes my order and reads it back to me. Then he asks me if I’d like to add a shot of espresso for a mid-afternoon pick-me-up. My typical response? “Did I ask for a fucking shot of espresso?” (I know, I’m an asshole. That, and I REALLY abhor Starfucks.) Don’t worry, I told the kid “earmuffs” before I said it, so he covered his ears. That works, right?
We then pull around to the window to empty my wallet on the extremely overpriced drink. The same male whorista that took my order opened the window and said, “Can I get you anything else buddy?” I’m about to say something really derogatory when from the back seat I hear, “Don’t call my dad ‘Buddy’ juicebag!”
I stifle the raucous laughter that wants to come flooding out my mouth. I hand over all my cash as if he is holding a pistol pointed at my head instead of a cup, and then I try not to burn my fingers as I take the recalescent drink. We pull out onto the highway to head home and I ask the child, “Did you just call that guy a douchebag?” He went on in a very angry tone stating that “HE” was buddy, not me, and that he is the only one allowed to call me “buddy.” I couldn’t stop laughing the entire remainder of the ride home.
After this incident, we’ve tried to reign in our use of “dad words” around the child. In an attempt to remain humorous while still telling each other to “watch your language,” I started using the “Don’t say” phrase. My wife would say “shit.” I would reply, “Don’t say ‘shit.’” Well, as you can guess, the child picked up on this and it lodged firmly into his memory bank.
In the beginning of December, we went and stayed a few days with my parents. One of the objectives of this trip was to go Christmas shopping together. We were walking into another Wal-Mart together, a few paces behind my parents. My mom got into one of the motorized carts and was having a good deal of trouble navigating with it. She ran into a big display poster in the front of the store and exclaimed “Shit.”
Of course, you can imagine what happened next. My son, the comedic genius, ran up to my mother and said, “Nana! Don’t say ‘shit!’” He said it with such emphasis and passion, like saying “shit” is one of the worst things a person can do. We all had a good laugh over that one. The “don’t say” has turned into “Don’t say ‘don’t say.’” to our son.
The next story is more humorous than horrible. It even helps me with my blood pressure and stress levels.
I wouldn’t say that I have road rage, but I do tend to get a tiny bit frustrated while driving. A little more so lately, having moved to a city that has HORRIBLE traffic. When driving, I’m always hollering at cars to “Get out of the way!” My mini-me would say, “You’re telling the cars to get out of your way?” I would answer to the affirmative and let him know they were going too slow and needed to get out of our way. He would say, “Oh, ok.” Every time after that point, any time I’m stuck in traffic, I always hear him yelling from the back seat while swinging his arm from one side to the other, “Get outta my way cars!” He does the road-raging for me, and I get to laugh and relax.
This next story happened just yesterday in fact, and to me is by far the most amusing. I had to sit down I was laughing so hard.
My son knows that I write. Quite frequently he sees me hammering away at the keyboard of my notebook. He is in fact looking at me as I write this very sentence. Yesterday I was on a roll and was doing quite a bit of writing, actually finishing three stories that were close to 2000 words each. I took several breaks throughout the day to spend time with him.
Late in the afternoon, I sat down next to him for a little while to build with Legos. After a few minutes I decided to pester him a bit by mimicking everything he said and did. At first he thought it was funny, giggling and laughing in response. Then, he got frustrated. He glanced over at my notebook, which was sitting open with a half written story on the screen, and then looked back at me. He furrowed his eyebrows at me, and with a bit of a scowl on his face, gestured with his hand towards my notebook and said, “Dad…go write something!” He immediately went back to his Legos, completely ignoring my presence next to him. As soon as I stopped laughing I immediately called my wife to share his latest antic with her.
The kid is a never-ending source of amusement and entertainment. He cracks me up, and apparently, according to him…”Dad, you crack my brain!”
Even more antics continued in Don't say "God," it's a bad word...& other stories.