My son is brilliant. He is. Really. I'm not just saying that. He sometimes says things that are so deep and so insightful, I can't help but want to write them down.
"Son," I said to the kid that spent two days with his Dad and never once brushed his teeth, "no one should have to tell you to do something so simple as to brush your teeth. There is no excuse."
"Mom, you have to remember I'm new at this," he said in his own defense.
"New at what? Brushing your teeth?"
"No, Mom. I'm new at being alive, so sometimes I forget stuff."
"Boy, you've been on this Earth for eleven years. How do you figure you're new at this?"
"Duh, Mom. Since I'm going to live a hundred years, eleven isn't that long. AND, there is a lot of stuff to learn! It's gon'na take some time."
"Mom where is the silver phone? I need to call a friend."
"I left it in my purse. You have my permission to go and look for it." Even at eleven he knows that rifling around a woman's purse without prior consent will get you shot.
"MOTHER!" he yelled from the living room. "Why do you have fireworks in your purse?"
"What are you talking about?" I asked walking toward him "Show me." With that he produced my private stash of feminine products.
"That is a tampon son," I explained with a smile. "But feel free to take it out in the front yard, light it and shoot it into space."
Copyright © 2004-2005, Sherri Bailey
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