Wilder by Far

A look at life with the Wilder family. Updated most weekends and some vacation days. You can contact me at movingnorth@gmail.com..

My Photo
Name:
Location: United States

Wednesday, August 23, 2006

"A hundred million terrorists in the world and I kill one with feet smaller than my sister." - Bruce Willis, Die Hard


This picture will make sense in a minute. I promise.


Election day (for the primaries) has passed. That’s nice. Now instead of Republican bickering, I can hear Republican vs. Democrat bickering. It’s less like sibling rivalry and more like a good neighbor feud. If we’re lucky, maybe there’ll be a bare-knuckle brawl, or at least some dog poop thrown over a fence or two.

I can (for this brief moment) listen to the radio and not hear ads indicating I should (or shouldn’t) vote for someone based upon their (alleged) acne problem when they were fifteen, or how a candidate doesn’t love children as much as the other or . . . I’ll stop here so I don’t give people ideas.

I still get the regular ads on radio, but they’re somewhat harmless. Mostly.

I was giving The Boy and Pugsley a bath the other night. The Boy was talking, as usual. Mostly I tune it out, because the last thing I don’t want to be known as is a parent who cares. It’s a weakness kids can turn against you.

In this case, The Boy lifted his right foot out of the water and pointed at his heel.

The Boy: “Why does alcohol hurt you here?”

This was interesting. I decided to see where it would go.

Me: “What??”

The Boy: “Alcohol hurts your feet-us.”

Me: “Ohhhhhhhh.”

The Mrs. allows The Boy to listen to a (monitored) number of local radio stations. On one of the stations, a public service announcement runs that indicates, “Any amount of alcohol is dangerous to your fetus.” (I almost spelled it feet-us just now). I recalled this and chuckled.

Me: “No, alcohol won’t hurt your feet, unless you’re running naked down an alley at 2AM and you stub your toe in the dark.”

The Boy: “What?”

Me: “Never mind. Long story.”

Then comes the long explanation of what a fetus is. Actually it was short. Wikipedia to the rescue! The clean pajama-clad The Boy and I looked at a picture posted there from Leonardo daVinci (okay, he didn’t post it, somebody else did, but it was his sketch) and The Boy understood. The Boy said, “Oh, it’s a baby.”

Maybe I should have waited to tell him. Say, just after college graduation. But he’d probably be faster than me then, because he had good feet-us.

6 Comments:

Blogger Dame Koldfoot said...

Will the wikipedia have the answer when the boys ask you why Mom has a special cupboard filled with bright pink boxes just for her in the bathroom? Glad I have girls--that talk is all part of the game plan.

2:29 PM  
Blogger Woofwoof said...

I am glad you spared us the "long story."

7:30 PM  
Anonymous CWH said...

The long story sounds better than Gilligan, Skipper, and Mr. Howell in a liquor store, please tell!!!!

9:22 AM  
Blogger SusanE said...

I love it. Nothing as fun as the world through children's eyes.

5:17 AM  
Blogger John said...

dame,
No, sadly wikipedia is silent on that subject, but The Boy, while being able to inventory my drill bits, has no interest there. Paper products . . . bah!

woof,
Well, yeah. It was a long story, except for the whole "made up" part.

cwh,
Hey, it was you who wouldn't shave the mustache!!!

susane,
Yup. It keeps me young, along with that stem cell extract I drink.

7:49 PM  
Blogger Jim said...

Nice and funny.... just what I needed imagine Coke coming out my nose all over the keyboard.

'nuf said?

5:19 AM  

Post a Comment

<< Home

Silktide SiteScore for this website
Blog Flux Directory Blogarama Free Web Counters
Web Counter
Search Popdex:
Humor Blog Top Sites Top100 Bloggers
Top100 uscity.net directory