I know that five year-old kids ask a lot of questions. As a parent, I’m prepared for that much. Prior to getting into this parenting gig, though, I imagined that my child and I would have, well, Socratic conversations. I imagined that occasionally my darling naïf, full of wonder at the world, would ask questions and I would gently hand down wisdom accumulated from my world travels.
I wasn’t prepared for the interrogations. And, to be honest, I wasn’t prepared for the stupid crap we’d be discussing. Don’t get me wrong. I like discussing stupid crap; I’d just rather be inflicting it than enduring it.
A recent conversation in our car went like this:
Gabriel: Dad, are we bald-headed robots?
Dad: What?
Gabriel: Dad, are we bald-headed robots?
Dad: No.
Gabriel: Dad, are we bald-headed robots?
Dad: No.
Gabriel: Dad, are we bald-headed robots?
Dad: No!
Gabriel: Dad, are we bald-headed robots?
Dad (exasperated) Yes, Gabriel, we are bald-headed robots.
A few moments of silence:
Gabriel: Dad, why are we bald-headed robots?
Clearly, my kid has future in Homeland Security, the Central Intelligence Agency or some other bureaucratic hell agency where they prize circular, painful conversations – perhaps the customer service line at my cell phone company, for instance.
3 comments:
Obviously, it is Gabriel who is the bald-headed robot, or rather a goverment-operated cybernetic mole hiding out in your family. He's obviously warming up his interrogative techniques on you. :--)
don't worry grim richard, those socratic conversations will come. Just be ready to endure a lot of Homestar/Marzipan exchanges on your way there. Actually, they will be interspersed. In fact, this is even true of college students.
i am your younger niece, and i think you should post abotu the story that your 4 year old son undertsnads what atoms are. i think he understands more than me, not that that is much to say. i hate science. hope to see you soon!
xoxo
<3
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