Caught between the chaos of life with 2 and a full time job, I often
overlook the random bits of funniness that come out of Toby’s mouth. The number of times I hear
my mother tell me to “write that down!” should be an indication to me that I
should. But I don’t. This week has been a particularly
funny one and I’ve collected a few random snapshots of my 4-going-on-40-year old
boy.
Yesterday he and Grandma Lynda were bonding in the
hammock. Grandma was pretending to
interview him and was asking him questions about himself; ‘So, Toby, what
colour is your soccer jersey? What
did you have for lunch today? What
is your favourite sport?” Toby was
right into it. Soon Grandma turned
the game around and asked Toby to interview her. “OK!” he said eagerly, “Grandma…WHAT is my name?” He
asked. My mom explained to him
that when he was the interviewer he had to ask HER the questions. Toby thought about things for a minute
before finally coming up with his opening question, “Grandma.” He said, very
seriously putting the pretend microphone up to her mouth, “Do you have…a
hairdresser?”
How’s THAT for random?
Not 24 hours later, on a completely different subject in
some other mental zone of Toby’s stratosphere, we were having dinner tonight
when Toby proudly announced that there was a new kid at daycare whose name was
“Eminem”.
I asked him to repeat the name about 4 times for
clarification and it was indeed not a mistake. Toby is unwavering in his nomenclature; the kid’s name is
EMINEM.
Navigating through the rest of the conversation was a
difficult one. I in no way wanted
to plant an idea in Toby’s head that this child’s name was at all anything to
make fun (or take note of) but I was indeed VERY curious. So I started with some neutral
questions. Was Eminem a boy or a
girl?
You would THINK this would be an easy one.
Toby thought and thought. As I waited with pretend ambivalence he chewed his bagel and
cream cheese, contemplating in lavish slothfulness while I waited with baited breath. Finally, after swallowing his mouthful,
wiping his face with his napkin and taking a sip of milk he cleared his throat
and said,
“I don’t know.
I’ll have to ask.”
WHAT!??!?! How do you not KNOW what sex s/he is?
The questioning from my part got even MORE challenging at
this point. Is there a politically
correct way to point out clues to a child’s gender without reinforcing dated
stereotypes? It took a good bit of thought and mental trial and error before I came up with my next careful question:
“Whose group was Eminem in?”
“Erin’s”
(Well THAT got me a lot of information).
“What sort of things did Eminem like to do at daycare
today?”
“Oh,” Toby said casually, “Eminem just kept coming over to my group.”
“Oh,” Toby said casually, “Eminem just kept coming over to my group.”
Finally Rob got exasperated by my cautious approach and took
it upon himself to get some hard and cold facts. “TOBY” He said directly in an
exasperated attempt to get some semblance of a concrete answer “Does Eminem
play with TRUCKS or DOLLS?”
I could see the hard work on creating a gender-neutral-approach-to-life dissipate with that one simple and terrifyingly revealing question.
I did what any LOGICAL parent would do in such a situation: I offered the both dessert.
As always, the truth is out there. Between me, my loud mouth and somewhat random son, and my politically incorrect husband, we WILL get it for you. But until then, I'll leave you with the one question I can answer : YES, my mother DOES have a hairdresser.
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