there are several things wrong with this scenario, and i'm not quite sure what troubles me more. for one, liam metamorphosed into a pint-sized attorney before my very eyes, producing exhibit A to contradict my testimony as if i were on the witness stand. (i almost expected to hear a triumphant "the defense rests!" as he slammed the book closed.) second, despite having thirty fewer years of reading experience, my four-year old already has a better hold on mother goose than i do. and third, liam apparently believes that girls are the stinky ones. blasphemy!
but upon further reflection, i decided that the most troubling aspect was none of the above. to me, the biggest problem is that he confessed to the crime in the first place. i mean, seriously. if you're going to admit to all of your, um, emissions ... then what's the point of even having a dog?
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
the dog DIDN'T do it
super, our sweet boxer, lay curled up at our feet while liam and i worked on an art activity in the family room yesterday. a less-than-desirable aroma soon wafted my way. as the owner of a breed that's world-renowned for its flatulence, i naturally assumed that the pooch was the culprit, so i nudged her towards the kitchen, hoping to clear the air a bit. "yowzers, super!" i exclaimed, waving my hand in front of my nose.
"that wasn't super -- it was me!" liam asserted, pleased as punch with himself. "i tooted!"
i rolled my eyes, laughing. "my goodness, liam. you're stinky!"
he shook his head. "i don't stink, because i'm a boy," he stated. "girls are the stinky ones. boys smell like ROSES."
now it was time for me to really laugh. "there's actually a poem with that theme," i told him, trying my hardest to remember the lines. "it talks about how girls are made of sugar and spice ... and how boys are made of snails and puppy dog tails ..." i trailed off, unable to conjure up the exact wording. "anyway, the point is that girls –" but before i could even finish the sentence, liam was out of the room and racing up the stairs.
seconds later, he returned, armed with his huge volume of mother goose. he handed me the book and said, "turn to page 100, mommy." wordlessly, i followed his instructions. just as he said, there, on page 100, was the nursery rhyme -- and, much to my surprise, he was right.
there are several things wrong with this scenario, and i'm not quite sure what troubles me more. for one, liam metamorphosed into a pint-sized attorney before my very eyes, producing exhibit A to contradict my testimony as if i were on the witness stand. (i almost expected to hear a triumphant "the defense rests!" as he slammed the book closed.) second, despite having thirty fewer years of reading experience, my four-year old already has a better hold on mother goose than i do. and third, liam apparently believes that girls are the stinky ones. blasphemy!
but upon further reflection, i decided that the most troubling aspect was none of the above. to me, the biggest problem is that he confessed to the crime in the first place. i mean, seriously. if you're going to admit to all of your, um, emissions ... then what's the point of even having a dog?
there are several things wrong with this scenario, and i'm not quite sure what troubles me more. for one, liam metamorphosed into a pint-sized attorney before my very eyes, producing exhibit A to contradict my testimony as if i were on the witness stand. (i almost expected to hear a triumphant "the defense rests!" as he slammed the book closed.) second, despite having thirty fewer years of reading experience, my four-year old already has a better hold on mother goose than i do. and third, liam apparently believes that girls are the stinky ones. blasphemy!
but upon further reflection, i decided that the most troubling aspect was none of the above. to me, the biggest problem is that he confessed to the crime in the first place. i mean, seriously. if you're going to admit to all of your, um, emissions ... then what's the point of even having a dog?
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3 comments:
When I'm looking for a much-needed quote, I'm lucky if I can remember what book it was in, let alone what page it was on!
He's like a walking google.
(A stinky walking google.)
les - i didn't even think about how weird it is that he can remember the exact page # of some random poem among the dozens and dozens of books on his shelf. he's just always had that crazy kind of memory that i've gotten used to it. i wish genetics could work backwards and i could inherit the trait from him. i'm lucky if i go all day without losing my car keys.
I'm sure this won't be the first time a mother has the inability to understand her son. "if you're going to admit to all of your, um, emissions ... then what's the point of even having a dog?" The point of having a dog is that it goves you someone to COMPETE with. That if there's a particularly good room-clearer, you can CLAIM it - the dog won't disagree.
I suppose that's why they say dogs are a MAN'S best friend...
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