The Children's Hour
I saw my three-year-old nephew not too long ago. After showing me how he can almost spell his little sister's name (he got it all but the silent "e" on the end, and though I tried to explain the concept of "silent e", he just looked at me like "Crazy grownup!" and kept repeating: "Eh-eh-eh. E says Eh." at me, like I'd gone mad. Bloody educational toys.), he showed me his 50 States puzzle, and showed me states where various family members lived, etc. I could tell he'd gone over this with Mom several times.
He is such a dear baby. I used to watch him once a week for nearly a year, and I really bonded with him then. He is "my" baby, of all the nieces and nephews (all of whom are, of course, Perfect Children). But I moved away a little over a year ago, and now I don't get to see him often. Every time I see him he's taller, he talks more clearly (he's already so articulate, it's astonishing), and he's more self-assured. Three-year-old logic is a fearsome and wondrous thing.
Case in point: After we'd journeyed through the U.S. by puzzle, I turned to him. "What do you think about you and me getting married sometime?"
Deadly serious, he looks at me, then squints his eyes and shakes his head. "No," he says. Pause. "I want to be a fireman."
I tried not to burst out laughing. "Well, you can be a fireman and still be married."
By this time he's started playing with the puzzle and is clearly only tolerating my nonsense. "No, I can't get married. I want to be a fireman."
"But lots of firemen are married."
He looks at me, shakes his head at his pitiable aunt, and says, "No, I want to be a FIREMAN." (Like I didn't hear the word clearly the first time.) At my look of confusion, he says, "I want to blow out fires. I'm going to be a fireman."
["Blow out fires"--is that like blowing out birthday candles? Or maybe he hasn't ever heard the phrase "put out fires."]
"Oh," I said. "Well, if you ever change your mind, let me know."
"Okay," he said, going on with his play.
It's all so clear, isn't it?
He is such a dear baby. I used to watch him once a week for nearly a year, and I really bonded with him then. He is "my" baby, of all the nieces and nephews (all of whom are, of course, Perfect Children). But I moved away a little over a year ago, and now I don't get to see him often. Every time I see him he's taller, he talks more clearly (he's already so articulate, it's astonishing), and he's more self-assured. Three-year-old logic is a fearsome and wondrous thing.
Case in point: After we'd journeyed through the U.S. by puzzle, I turned to him. "What do you think about you and me getting married sometime?"
Deadly serious, he looks at me, then squints his eyes and shakes his head. "No," he says. Pause. "I want to be a fireman."
I tried not to burst out laughing. "Well, you can be a fireman and still be married."
By this time he's started playing with the puzzle and is clearly only tolerating my nonsense. "No, I can't get married. I want to be a fireman."
"But lots of firemen are married."
He looks at me, shakes his head at his pitiable aunt, and says, "No, I want to be a FIREMAN." (Like I didn't hear the word clearly the first time.) At my look of confusion, he says, "I want to blow out fires. I'm going to be a fireman."
["Blow out fires"--is that like blowing out birthday candles? Or maybe he hasn't ever heard the phrase "put out fires."]
"Oh," I said. "Well, if you ever change your mind, let me know."
"Okay," he said, going on with his play.
It's all so clear, isn't it?
posted by Violet at 10:10 PM
3 Comments:
That's so very cute. I once played "farm Lego" with a three year old boy and I looked in the trailor of his Lego tractor and said "is that the hay?" and he looked at me like I was the biggest idiot and said "no, it's a yellow Lego brick." Grown ups just don't know what they're talking about!
Well, he told *me* that when he grows up he is going to be a fireman and marry Violet. Evidently, he begins to see how the two can coexist...
--ma
Excellent child.
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