On arrival, he met a few other children swimming in the motel pool. The day was hot, the drive had been long and the pool was a very refreshing welcome. It was a very nice pool and we frequented often including the next morning and again in the afternoon. One of the young folks in the afternoon figured he'd seen the Boy earlier in the day.
Kid: Are you the one from this morning?
Boy: (No answer)
Kid: Are you the one?
Boy (vehemently): No, I'm four and a half.
Friday, July 30, 2004
Somewhere, Lou Costello Smiles.
The motel in PPI was great. It had fridge that we weren't expecting and a pool that we were. A fire pit and a horseshoes pit. A little basketball court in the driveway and "Shirley's", a burger and ice cream stall across the road. That was a new word for The Boy, "Stall" and he used it frequently.
Thursday, July 29, 2004
The Mystery Tour.
My wife's four days off coincided with great summertime weather. We got in the car and headed for Prince Edward Island. Starting out, we had the music CD on again. The Beatles were singing on track 7. The Boychild, remembering our talks about the Beatles when we were driving to my parents place, piped up that the Beatles were also on track 12. I clicked the "Skip" button a few times and sure enough, the Beatles were on track 12.
Me: How did you know number 12 was the Beatles?
Boy: I guess I'm just magic...
Me: How did you know number 12 was the Beatles?
Boy: I guess I'm just magic...
Tuesday, July 27, 2004
Members Only
It's after his soccer game. His team did very well this night in that they scored a goal. Make the final 11-1.
What we're talking about is our upcoming trip to Prince Edward Island. When he was very young, he called it P.P.I. So, to this day, we always call it PPI. A holdover from days of extreme youngness and cuteness.
Me: In two more sleeps we're going to PPI.
Boy: What's are we going to do in three more sleeps?
Me: Well, will still be in PPI. You and Mommy are going to go to the beach and we're all going to go to Rainbow Valley, and Daddy's going to go golfing. And you know what? In three more sleeps, maybe Daddy and Boy can go golfing together. Because, remember? Daddy called the lady at Rollo Bay. She remembered you from last year and said on the phone that a Boy could come golfing again.
Boy: Is there a lot of places to golf at PPI?
Me: Yes sweetheart, there are lots of places.
Boy: Is there a lot of places for me to golf at PPI?
Me: I don't think so. Most of the golf courses you have to be ten years old before they let you play.
Boy: Like in Bedford?
Me: That's right. Remember they wouldn't let you play and you cried.
Boy: When I grow up I'm going to build a golf course that's only for little boys.
Friday, July 23, 2004
The Beatles With a Half Drop of Lemon
The drive from my house to my parents house takes an hour and a half. I'm going to play in a golfing tournament and maybe also to get The Boy out one evening to play a few holes because he really likes to play. He's been playing for over three years now. I remind you that he's not quite 5 years old.
We're listening to a music CD I've made of various artists. And even though partially sleep-deprived, staying awake is no problem when there's a little chatterbox going non-stop for the full ninety minutes with questions, questions, questions! Among the gems:
Boy: Who's this group?
Me: The Beatles.
Boy: What's their names?
Me: John, Paul, George and Ringo. They play rock and roll. All different kinds of music actually.
Boy: Do the Beatles play a Tango?
(Tango? How the heck does he know about a Tango?)
Me: Don't spill your lemonade now. We don't want a mess in the backseat.
Boy: I spilled some. Only a little, Just a drop.
Me: We-eelll.... A drop is okay.
Boy: Is half a drop okay?
Me (considering): Spilling half a drop might be pretty tricky....
Boy: (unintelligble ... but one word catches my ear ... did he say,"funky?")
Me: What? What did you say?
Boy: I said look at that cloud, Daddy.
Me: What kind of cloud?
Boy: Look at that funky cloud. Do you think it's going to thunder?
(Funky? Where the heck did he hear "Funky"?)
Tuesday, July 20, 2004
So We Begin
Only 43 sleeps shy of five years late.
A trove of lost quotes. So I better start writing the rest down before they're all gone.
This is a record of the strange, beautiful, wonderfully funny, bizarre observations of the world around us, comments uttered completely guileless by my four-year old son.
Boy: I love you more.
Me: I love you to the farthest star and back.
Boy: I love you to empty space.
Me: It's not a contest....
From the restaurant:
Boy: Daddy, I'd like more to drink.
Me: Well, ask the waitress, sweetheart.
Boy (shyly): No. You.
Me: It's not hard. Just say "Excuse me, miss. Could you -" and then ask her for what you want.
Boy: Excuse me, miss. Could you take off your clothes?
(Fortunately asked before the waitress had returned.)
From the department store:
Boy: What are you going to do when we get home (question asked for the umpteenth time).
Me (exasperated but joking): Give you a kick in the bum.
Boy: What are you going to do when we get home and don't say kick in the bum.
Me: I'm going to give you two kicks in the bum.
Boy (proclaiming for all in the check-out line to hear): Next time you say kick in the bum, I'm going to kick you in the PENIS.
Me (after a pause to the red-faced and tittering check-out girl): Guess he told me.
At home:
I had to play bad guy and after several warnings sent the Boy to his room for not leaving Mummy alone when she was sick. Two minutes later (only two) I went up and got him and explained the reason for his little punishment. Following that with little sobs:
Boy:: Mommy's number one and you're number two. I love Mommy to the stars and back. I only love you to the sun.
In the car, returning from our Sunday golf game:
Boy: Daddy, what countries have I been?
Me: Well, you've been to Canada and the United States. You've been to Boston, Newfoundland, PEI, New Brunswick and Nova Scotia. You've been to Ottawa and to Montreal to see the Expos.
Boy: Where have you been?
Me: I've been to the same places you have. And I've been to Houston and Los Angeles and San Diego. Vancouver and Victoria. Toronto.
Boy: What countries have you not been?
Me (now picturing an atlas in my head): Oh, Poland, Brazil, none of the former Soviet Republics (this last with an inward grin), nothing in South America or Central America.
Boy: Have you been to England?
Me: No. Not to England or Ireland or Scotland or Wales.
Boy: Whales?
Me: I haven't been to Norway or Finland or Denmark or Sweden.
Boy: Where else have you been?
Me: I've been to France, though. And Germany and Austria. I've been to Greece and New York and Charlottesville, North Carolina and Cozumel, Mexico. I lived in Bermuda for three years.
Boy: Daddy, have you been to heaven?
Monday 19 July 2004:
Boy: "You're the worst Daddy ever." That one stung a lot.
Later that night going to bed you gave me a hug and a kiss and tweaked my nose.
Boy: "Are you happy now Daddy?"
Me: "Yes, Sweetheart. Now I'm happy."
Boy: "Yay! I made Daddy happy!"
A trove of lost quotes. So I better start writing the rest down before they're all gone.
This is a record of the strange, beautiful, wonderfully funny, bizarre observations of the world around us, comments uttered completely guileless by my four-year old son.
Catching up:
Me: I love you.Boy: I love you more.
Me: I love you to the farthest star and back.
Boy: I love you to empty space.
Me: It's not a contest....
From the restaurant:
Boy: Daddy, I'd like more to drink.
Me: Well, ask the waitress, sweetheart.
Boy (shyly): No. You.
Me: It's not hard. Just say "Excuse me, miss. Could you -" and then ask her for what you want.
Boy: Excuse me, miss. Could you take off your clothes?
(Fortunately asked before the waitress had returned.)
From the department store:
Boy: What are you going to do when we get home (question asked for the umpteenth time).
Me (exasperated but joking): Give you a kick in the bum.
Boy: What are you going to do when we get home and don't say kick in the bum.
Me: I'm going to give you two kicks in the bum.
Boy (proclaiming for all in the check-out line to hear): Next time you say kick in the bum, I'm going to kick you in the PENIS.
Me (after a pause to the red-faced and tittering check-out girl): Guess he told me.
At home:
I had to play bad guy and after several warnings sent the Boy to his room for not leaving Mummy alone when she was sick. Two minutes later (only two) I went up and got him and explained the reason for his little punishment. Following that with little sobs:
Boy:: Mommy's number one and you're number two. I love Mommy to the stars and back. I only love you to the sun.
In the car, returning from our Sunday golf game:
Boy: Daddy, what countries have I been?
Me: Well, you've been to Canada and the United States. You've been to Boston, Newfoundland, PEI, New Brunswick and Nova Scotia. You've been to Ottawa and to Montreal to see the Expos.
Boy: Where have you been?
Me: I've been to the same places you have. And I've been to Houston and Los Angeles and San Diego. Vancouver and Victoria. Toronto.
Boy: What countries have you not been?
Me (now picturing an atlas in my head): Oh, Poland, Brazil, none of the former Soviet Republics (this last with an inward grin), nothing in South America or Central America.
Boy: Have you been to England?
Me: No. Not to England or Ireland or Scotland or Wales.
Boy: Whales?
Me: I haven't been to Norway or Finland or Denmark or Sweden.
Boy: Where else have you been?
Me: I've been to France, though. And Germany and Austria. I've been to Greece and New York and Charlottesville, North Carolina and Cozumel, Mexico. I lived in Bermuda for three years.
Boy: Daddy, have you been to heaven?
Monday 19 July 2004:
Boy: "You're the worst Daddy ever." That one stung a lot.
Later that night going to bed you gave me a hug and a kiss and tweaked my nose.
Boy: "Are you happy now Daddy?"
Me: "Yes, Sweetheart. Now I'm happy."
Boy: "Yay! I made Daddy happy!"
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