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  • Sh*t My Kid Says…

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    I’d start a Twitter account for this sort of thing, but I just don’t have time. Besides which, I’d just get myself accused of trying to capitalize on the “Dad Says” dude, and his success.

    So, anyway, there we were, on vacation. I should probably write a vacation blog and tell all sorts of stories about how E K made us march through the woods and over huge boulders, all in the sweltering 95+ heat, with 12,000,000% humidity, but I’ll have to get to that later… Maybe… I guess it’s a we’ll see sort of thing.

    Okay, so back to the real story here. There we were, on vacation, last night of the trip, and we were staying at The Davie School Inn. When we asked about “eats” the owner directed us to The Brick House restaurant, a couple of blocks away. A little eclectic fusion sort of bistro with interesting decor and good food. We even sat at the “Twister Table”… Seriously. It was painted like a Twister mat. Kinda weird, but kinda cool at the same time. After ordering up a couple of Mothership Wits for ourselves, and a Root Beer for the O-spring, we set about perusing the menu. When all was said and done, after salivating over the many wonderful sounding selections, believe it or not we all ordered sort of the same thing – E K had steamed mussels and a house specialty salad. I had steamed mussels and a spinach salad. The O-spring had… Yes… Steamed mussels, but instead of a salad she opted for French Fries. Odd combination, yeah, but hey… She’s a 10 year old. Besides, how many 10 year olds do you know who willingly order steamed mussels and then rave about them for two hours? Yeah, that’s our kid. Go figure…

    But, that’s not what this is really about. Well… It is sorta, but not exactly. You see, as we sat there enjoying a wonderful dinner, some tunes were wafting in from above. This prompted E K and I to discuss our Vinyl Collection, because it has yet to be all converted to CD. In particular, we were talking about The Police and Sting. Why? Because a song by Sting was playing, silly.

    Anywho, fast forward 10 minutes or so. The kid is blowing bubbles in her root beer, shoving French Fries into one side of her mouth, and discovering the creamy goodness of the steamed mussel broth at the bottom of her bowl. Yet another song by Sting begins pouring in from overhead. Being old, and because of that a bit addled, I looked at The Evil Redhead with a puzzled expression.

    “That isn’t the same song we just heard a few minutes ago, is it?” I asked.

    E K, being in the middle of masticating a mussel, held up a finger to indicate I should wait a second for her answer. However, before she was able to engage peristalsis and swallow the food, the O-spring spoke up.

    “No, it isn’t the same song,” she said, then by way of explanation offered her personal analysis of the brass section content. “The other one was a lot more horny.”

    E K choked on the half swallowed mussel. I spewed Mothership Wit all over the wall across from me. The server applied the Heimlich Maneuver to the redhead, propelling the glob of  seafood along a bizarre trajectory that landed it in the pale blue beehive of a 97 year old patron across the room who was trying desperately to enjoy a Bruschetta, even though she had forgotten her teeth. Another server who was attempting to avoid the shellfish projectile slipped, sending a tray full of chilled soup cascading across a party of 18 several feet away, prompting the…

    Okay… So it wasn’t that dramatic. But, EKay’s eyes got really big, she half choked on the piece of garlic bread in her mouth, and I almost – not quite, but almost – spewed a mouthful of Mothership Wit across the table.

    The O-spring looked at us and said, “What?”

    E K leaned over and whispered, “You probably should have said brassy, because horny is a slang word that means someone really wants to have sex a lot.”

    The O-spring having been through the “talk” at school, besides being brilliant as well, knew what sex happened to be – in theory.  Also, being 10, while she is familiar with the non-specific theory behind it, the subject is still residing in that “EWWW, GROSS!” area of her psyche. Personally, I’d like for it to stay that way until I’m dead, but hey, I’m a dad, and that’s how dads are.

    So, since that’s where the concept resides, that’s what the O-spring said. “EWWW, GROSS!”

    This was somewhat heartening, to say the least…

    There was a moment of quiet, then she looked across the table and said, “You’re going to write a blog about this, aren’t you, Dad?”

    Obviously, she hadn’t lost her faith in me…

    (Aww, come on, quit groaning… you knew I would have to make at least one Sting song lyric related pun…)

    More to come…

    Murv

    • there isnt a text acronym for “im laughing out loud so hard I’m crying” !
      :-p

    • Gotta love ’em…mine did something similar on vacation with her grandparents and brother about a week ago. They were all sitting at a restaurant for breakfast and Miss Thing – age 11 (who is always attempting to broaden her vocabulary) throws something on the table and announces “I got CONDOMS!” Of course, everyone at the table almost chokes on their food, including her 16 yr. old brother, until they look at what she has thrown on the table – butter. She was trying to say she had rounded up some CONDIMENTS, but alas, she chose the wrong word….I wonder how many year’s she took off my dad’s life! 😉

    • 11 seems to be the pivotal age for the nexus of innocence meets sexuality, my own stepson had his own sort of moment in my in-laws kitchen over sauerkraut and Kelbasa. it would take too long to get into here, but he blurted out a reference to the male member that only he and his brother used in front of my 70+ mother-in-law, causing myself and my lovely bride to want to crawl under the table, but, to our surprise, being totally ignored by my mother-in-law. you never know what your kid will say or when

    • My youngest son, at three, learned the difference between boys and girls. Boys and men have them, girls and women dont. This is the child who wanted to make sure gravity worked EVERY time, and tested it with peas dropped off his high chair tray. We were riding the bus- the #70 GRAND bus. In that sort of voice that carries the way only a three years old’s can, he was asking me, as people got on the bus “Does that man have a p____?” and he was asking for every single man he saw. A whispered “yes honey, all men do”-did not suffice- he’s a scientist, he has to test repeatedly. While I didnt want to squelch his new found learning, I also didnt want any repercussions from strangers. Finally I said, “Its not polite to ask in public.” Figuring that manners was also important to learn at this stage!

    • Actually, it was “Cava” which started out as” Cavawienie” that in turn going back to ” Cavalini ” being the old Blues player (Hockey Blues that is) Gino Cavalini. Kids being kids,evolving the language.

    • Murv,

      Just got to this today as yesterday was insane at work. (yes I read your blog at work I need something to make me smile) Thanks for the morning lift. Kids will say the most interesting things.

      Thanks

      Alexx

    • GINO!!!!! WALLY!!!!!!

      Man, do I miss the Cavalini brothers….

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