"I asked for a car; I got a computer."

Looking for a commentary that uses big words and ponders the deeper meanings of various topics? Well...you've come to the wrong place. This blog is all about extolling the greatness of Christ, the joy of marriage, the rollercoaster ride called parenthood, the supremacy of the 1980's...and doing all of it at a fifth grade reading level!

Thursday, March 16, 2006

He Said WHAT?!?!?!

I distinctly remember walking home from school one day when I was in the fourth grade. I was anxious to get home and visit with my dad about my day at school. Something fascinating had happened.

I heard the familiar sound of my dad's Volkswagen Beetle pull up in the driveway, so I dashed to the front door to welcome him. He scarcely had time to do anything before I exclaimed, "Dad I gotta talk to you!" Dad was puzzled by my statement as I very rarely insisted on visiting with dad one-on-one.

We walked back into my room. My dad walked through the door, and I asked him to close it. Instantly his curiosity was peaked...and I could see beads of sweat form on his forehead. He looked at me with inquisitive and nervous eyes.

I was sitting on my bed, both hands clenched as I searched for the right words to begin our conversation...but nothing was coming to mind. So I began simply, "Daddy?" As I spoke my right fist unclenched slightly as one finger...THE finger...extended to it highest position, "What does this mean?"

It was like watching air escape from a large pool toy. My father's face sunk as he now searched his mind for the correct answer. He thought for a moment...then said simply, "Well, it means the same thing as f*** you." Thinking he had handled that well, my father's confidence returned quickly. But victory was snatched quickly from his grasp by my follow-up question. "What does f*** mean?"

For an hour my father and I covered every single detail involving vulgarity, swearing, and sex. You name it - we talked about it. I walked out of that room a new man. I also emerged hoping the day would never come when I had to explain such things to my son.

On Wednesday I was on the phone at work...when the other line rings. I see from the caller ID that Robin is calling me, but I'm not a point where I can get off the phone. Next my cell phone rings. It's Robin again, but I still can't answer. Then my desk phone rings again...and again it's Robin. Thinking that something might be wrong I answer the phone. "You need to talk to your son," she said. I told her I was on the phone and would call her back.

This has happened before...and it usually consists of my oldest son not wanting to clean his room...OR Noah (a.k.a. "Legion") trying to eat his baby brother. I was not the least bit prepared for what I was going to encounter.

Robin answered the phone, and I ask what today's mishap is. I hear the immortal words that no father ever wants to hear: "Do you know what your son said?" Instantly I flashed back to the fourth grade. "Good Lord," I thought. "PLEASE don't let it be the queen mother of all vulgarities." I'm jolted back to reality by my wife's voice.

"Elijah walked up to me and said, 'Where the hell is my hockey stick?'"

Not as bad as I was anticipating, but still something that needed to be addressed. "Here's your son," she said, obviously disgusted by her oldest son's behavior.

I hear lots of crying in the background; the sort of crying that results from spending many minutes in "time out." After I get Elijah calmed down I do my best to explain to him why that's an ugly thing to say. I'm then forced to put on my detective hat.

"Where did you hear that," I asked? All of a sudden I realized I wasn't prepared for an answer. "What if he heard me say that," I wondered? Granted, I've been known to play a PG-rated round of golf or game of basketball...but I've never said anything like that in front of my kids.

Or have I?

"I don't know," came the reply.

"Well," I began, choosing my words carefully, "you've never heard DADDY say that, have you?" The pause on the other end of the line seemed to last for an eternity.

"No," came the reply. YES!!! VICTORY!!!

But my curiosity was peaked. "What about Mommy?"

"No." I'm relieved by that answer as well...although an affirmative response to that questions would have proved EXTREMELY entertaining.

After minutes of interrogation and going through our entire family tree, I came to the conclusion that Elijah must have heard it on TV and figured it was just another way to emphasize a question.

So I've cleared yet another parenting hurdle...and I've began working on a script for the "where do babies come from" question.

4 Comments:

At 3:50 PM, Blogger Sarah said...

Soon, when he KNOWS all of the not-to-say words, he will then point out when you say one. We have that kind of help at our house. Our 10-year-old walked in a few minutes ago and said, "Dad is working on his truck and said, "Oh, (she spells) C-R-A-P". That's gotta be bad." Now we have the language police!

 
At 10:01 AM, Blogger Mark Lavender said...

Remind me to never have Elijah anywhere near me when I'm playing golf!

 
At 10:02 AM, Blogger Mark Lavender said...

Or watching ACU basketball games for that matter!

 
At 11:16 PM, Blogger mom23 said...

Is it bad that I just laughed my head off? I hope not!

 

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