Out of the Mouths of Babes – Teaching Your Kids the Wrong Things

Some of the best conversations with my son Patrick come after dinner when we’re just sitting around the table.  Of course, I’m learning that I have to be careful with what I say, because he remembers things far too easily.

Patrick:  “I put all the trash in the trash bin.”

Me:  “You put it where?”

Patrick:  “In the trash bin.  Right here.” (*slaps the trash can with his hand*)

Me:  “Who taught you to call it a trash bin?”

Patrick:  “No one.  I taught myself.  I knew it right here.” (*pokes his head with both hands*)

Me:  “That’s strange, son.  I always called it a trash can.  Y’know who else calls it a trash bin?”

Patrick:  “No, Dad.  Who?”

Me:  “Limey Brits.”

(It should be noted at this point that my wife is giving me a dirty look.)

Patrick:  “What’s a ‘wimey bwrit’, Dad?”

Me:  “You know that show “Top Gear” that Mommy and Daddy like to watch, where the three men talk about cars and do funny things with cars and drive race cars around the race track?”

Patrick:  “Like the show you and Mommy watched last night?”

Me:  “That’s right.  Those three men on that show are limey Brits.”

Patrick:  “Wow, Dad.  So all the people in the audience are wimey bwrits, too?”

Me:  “That’s right, son.”

 

At this point in the conversation, my wife is sitting behind Patrick and giving me the Hairy Eyeball.  She’s also mouthing something about having to “explain this to the school”.  Luckily for me, Patrick moved on to a story about the fun things to do on his school playground, and while he demonstrated how he climbs the tire ladder like an elephant, I made a comment that he looked more like an elephant getting a prostate exam.  My wife smacked herself in the forehead, so I thought I’d better shut up.

Stay tuned for another chapter in the story, where I’ll teach you how to deal with a concerned principal while explaining to him that you’re really not an Anglophobe.