I’m Just Glad It Impresses Somebody

Kids are little tape recorders; they hear something once and they can repeat it ad nauseam. Of course, it would be nice if they would remember the time you quoted David Hume or made a witty and articulate come back to a verbal slight but most of the time they only remember when you broke your foot and stood in the living room swearing for five minutes. And sometimes it isn’t what they say but when they say it that makes it rememberable.

When our eldest boy, Big Bits, was three he had a major crush on our good friend. She is grandma aged, and since both my wife and I have mothers that live many hours away, she became his Nana. Everything she said was like words from God Him(and/or Her)self. One phrase that caught on was “Big and Strong,” as in “eat this so you can grow up Big and Strong” or “Walking around the block will make us Big and Strong.” Soon every other word out of his mouth was “Big and Stong this” or “Big and Stong that.” He usually punctuated saying this with putting his arms up and flexing his biceps. He’s always been a funny kid; “ha-ha” funny not “that boy ain’t right” funny.

Big Bits has always been a Daddy’s Boy and has been my shadow since the time he could walk. I’ve gotten used to this and so when he followed me into the bathroom at a restaurant I didn’t think twice about it. There was an older man washing his hands when we entered but otherwise we were alone. We slipped into a stall (I didn’t need the stall but using the urinal leaves him free to wander off and see what the other men in the bathroom might be up to) and I got down to business.

I should also mention that it took nearly three years for Big Bits to talk but once he got going it was nearly impossible to shut him up. It’s like he has no filter between his eyes and his mouth: he sees it and he has to state it, usually with a running commentary. “Look, a tree. It’s tall. Oh, look, a bird. It’s flying. Daddy, Daddy, Daddy…look, a rock. It’s…a rock” While I was happy that he was finally speaking, I sometimes wondered if there was a way to shut him up.

So there I was, “peeing” for lack of a better term, and Big Bits stood next to me, strangely silent. Finally, as I was getting ready to pack up and go he nearly shouts, “Daddy, you have a Big and Strong penis!” I couldn’t help but guffaw but not as much as the old man washing his hands. I smiled down at Big Bits, patted him on the head and headed out to the sink. There the old man was trying to recover from his laughing fit, which had developed into a coughing jag. I waited for him to calm down and move so I could wash up.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said once he had recovered.

I shrugged before I answered. “That’s OK, I’m just glad it impresses somebody.” We left him still laughing/coughing and red in the face after we washed our hands. I just hope it only looked like he was having heart attack. If not, at least his family will now know he died happy.