When Son's Not As Smart As You Think He Is

Mommy, I want to be in de movie.

 

Okay, you can go too.  But that doesn't mean you'll get to be in the movie.

 

Is it a cartoon?

 

No, it's not.  Why?

 

I don't want to be in a cartoon.

 

Oh, why?  That might be fun.

 

No.  Cause some cartoons look like clay and I don't want to be in one dat looks like clay.

So now I'm completely aware that his sweet brain is about to give me one of the moments I blog for.

And the other day he said something that made no sense and I looked at him kinda crazy - crazy enough that he knew he had to explain but not so crazy that I'd scar him or anything - and he said - sometimes my words mess my brain up -

really?  I didn't know.

but back to this story . . .

Baby, I don't understand.  Why wouldn't you want to be in a clay one?

And then there it is.  The look.  The look he gives me far too often when he can't understand why I don't just know. 

Cause, Mommy, dey would have to turn me into clay.

And I stare, trying not to laugh.

He stares back - rolls his eyes - embarassed for me and my stupidity -

And Mommy, dat would hurt.

 

. . . and dey would have to make a clay head of me and den put it on top of my head like dis and it would be heavy and . . . . . . . . .

 

and on and on and on.

And on and on and on until I'm staring at him glassy eyed.  I'm thinking- maybe the stork really did bring him - but from where?