Taking a Stand: Kids have a way with brutal honesty
Kids say the darndest things. Talk about being painfully frank, they can cut you to the bone without even realizing they’ve gotten off a zinger. It must be nice being able to be brazenly straight-foward, yet still have the ability not to offend.
Sometimes Jack’s painful frankness gives me the urge to reach over and ring his jaws but then again, the cat’s already out of the bag so what good would it do.
“Daddy, that lady’s old” or “That man has a big nose” are things that sometimes creep out a little too loud when he’s in public, given the fact his volume knob is stuck on the loud setting. It seems he always has the urge to point out the very obvious, like I’m not going to notice.
“Yeah, thanks Mr. Obvious,” I’ll retort. “Is the sky still blue too, Jack?”
It sometimes gets to the point that my hair bristles on the back of my neck when we’re in line somewhere near someone who I see Jack eyeing. I almost want to do a pre-emptive mouth-covering before he blurts out something awkward, because I can see those wheels turning in his head.
I’ve tried explaining he shouldn’t blurt out such things and I don’t do it myself; however, for some reason he feels he must blurt out the obvious at every turn. He’ll probably be a sports commentator when he grows up.
“To win today, the Titans are going to have to score more points than the other team and then hold the other team to less points,” says an older sports commentator Jack Sherrill, still the master of the blatantly obvious.
Then there’s the home life. Jack doesn’t pull punches when it comes to rattling our cages at home. For instance, recently I’ve come up with this bad habit of referring to good-looking girls as “hotties” on television. For instance, if a looker walks across the screen, I’ll say “There’s a hottie, Jack.”
So anyway, we’re sitting in front of the television a few days ago and this good-looking girl is on the screen. Jack pops up and says, “Daddy, there’s a hottie.” Well, about that time my lovely wife walks through the living room, the same wife who has warned me about teaching Jack those “sexist” and “chauvinistic” words. Then, out of the blue, Jack continues his diatribe on hotties.
“Mamma, she isn’t a hottie,” Jack says, pointing and shaking his head.
Ouch! Now why did he have to go there. My wife is in fact still a hottie but to Jack, she’s just momma. Of course, the damage is already done, leaving me to conduct damage control for the coming weeks and months and perhaps pay for some therapy. And, of course, while skirting the comment at that moment, she is quick to again lecture me about my upbringing skills when it comes to teaching my son to be an average guy, which, in my opinion, includes telling a hottie from a non-hottie.
And then there’s Mr. Picky when it comes to dinner. If he don’t like something, he proclaims it’s “yuck” thereby once again offending his mother. Even my attempt to smooth Jack’s edges has backfired. Not long ago, I threatened to give his supper to our dog, Barkley, if he didn’t eat it, to which he proclaimed, “No, don’t give it to Barkley. It’ll make him sick.”
My wife is a very good cook by the way, once again defending her honor against our 4-year-old critic. Actually, Barkley loves her cooking, he he.
It would probably be better of kids had a seven second delay like some radio stations have to filter out vulgar callers. In that way, us parents could filter out those embarrassing little comments.
(Duane Sherrill is a reporter for the Standard. He can be reached at 473-2191 or at [email protected].)