28 June 2018
916
R. Linda:
I had to get new tyres on me Saturn and while I was waiting in the lounge area, inhaling the dreadful smell of rubber, a man and his 4 year old son walked in and were sitting behind me. The TV was on a sitcom station of which there was no control, so we were being forced to watch the Addams Family (a version I had never seen before) on cable. Me mind wandered because the sitcom was silly and I really had no desire to watch it. Neither did it seem the man and his kiddo. He said something about crayons and a colouring book but the child did not want to colour.
"How about we do your words?" Daddy asked cheerfully.
"Ugh, I dun wanna." The little tyke replied.
"Come on now Bud, lets practise. Here is a piece of paper and here take this crayon. What colour is the crayon?"
"I dun know." This said with an exaggerated sigh.
"Yes, you do. Come on what colour is the crayon?"
"I s'pose its red." Was the answer.
"Ok then. Lets write the letter R on the paper."
"But I dun wannaaaaaaah!"
"Come on Bud, write the letter R."
There was quiet and then the man said, "Good try but that's backwards Bud."
"Den YOU DO IT!" The child exploded.
I caught meself before I laughed out loud.
"Are we getting internally stressed?" Daddy asked making me almost turn around because REALLY? Who would ask a 4 year old such a question? Maybe daddy was a psychologist? I distinctly remember he looked more like a dad on the dole than any professional, decked out in khaki shorts, a ratty tee shirt, dirty trainers and a scraggly beard. If anyone was internally stressed it was ME from listening to the bullshite coming from behind me.
Me son be 5 years old and I know if I asked him if he was internally stressed when he was frustrated with something, he'd laugh at me first, then make fun of me for the rest of me life. Who does that? Well, that guy quite obviously.
This explosion of child anger was taken by daddy as child distress.
"Now Buddy, you remember how to calm don't you? Take a deep breath, hold it, and slowly let it out."
WHAT? WHAT, WHAT WAS THIS NOW? I could hear the child shallow breathing quickly just to placate his father and there I was breathing in rhythm with daddy! If anyone was stressed it was ME!
"Ok, you know what I'm going to do?" Daddy said not waiting for an answer, "I am going to get a wet cloth for your forehead to soothe you. Ok Bud?" And up he got leaving the child sighing heavily behind me and me looking daddy over to try to figure the dude out. Was he a hippy type, or some geek who home schooled his own way? I had notta clue watching him disappear into the rest room.
I felt a tiny handing taping the back of me shoulder.
"Hey Mister, could ya take dis?"
And as I turned around he handed me the paper, colouring book and crayons.
"What's this?" I asked.
"You colour so I dun hafta."
I felt bad for him but I put the colouring paraphernalia on the seat next to me. He got up and went to the soda machine, looking wistfully at the cans. He hit a few buttons and of course nothing happened. I asked if he'd like a cola from the machine and he lit up. I should have known he was soda restricted, but me heart was melting he looked so put upon.
"Can you even have soda?" I asked thinking I needed to think before I shot me mouth off with a promise of a cola drink.
"I ain't got dieabeatees. I only git a cola sum times like spes'al oakasions. My daddy says if I drink too much a it, it will rot my teef."
"Okay, well lets see your teeth." They were all there and white. "Looks good. This be a special occasion. We'll call it . . . " I thought but he beat me too it with another daddyism.
"Expandin' our horhighzons."
"Okay, expanding our horizons." I popped the bill into the machine and got him a cola. "I have a feeling your Da won't be happy with me." I said handing it to the delighted lad.
"Whats a Da?"
"Daddy." I said putting me wallet away.
Daddy was coming, I saw him looking perplexed at his son and the soda can. I headed him off before he could say a word.
"Hi, I'm Gabe, I hope you don't mind your little one was thirsty so I took the liberty of buying him a drink."
The man was not pleased I could see. Instead he was suspicious I was some pervert. Great! Could this day get any worse? He was looking around like he was looking for security and seeing none, softened a little and muttered a thanks, and informed me that there was a water fountain next to the soda machine. That would have been healthier.
Not liking his attitude, I said as he went to sit next to his son, "Well, with all due respect the water fountain doesn't look all that sanitary." SO THERE DADDY TAKE THAT. Gees.
He didn't respond and from the side of me eye I could see he had slapped the wet paper towel over his sons forehead.
"That's enough sugar water." He said his hand on the can, but the youngster wasn't letting go. "Now Bertram, let go."
Bertram? What kind of name is that for a child? Bertie? Bert? Bertram? And when he was school age, would Birdie Man come into play?
"See GABE, this is what happens when he's had sugar." Daddy said sarcastically to me, making me turn around to see the child had a firm hold on the cola can.
"He be acting like any normal kid who doesn't want his drink taken away." I observed out loud. "Right Bertram?"
"Yup." The wee tyke spouted.
Daddy must have felt slightly embarrassed at me staring at him, so he let go the cola. I turned back around feeling his eyes burning a hole in the back of me head.
Whatever he was having done to his auto his was done ahead of mine. He shot me a nasty glance as he was leaving, but Bertram paused, handed me the empty cola can and said, "Thanks Mr. Gabe."
"Welcome," said I. "I hope the cola broaden your horizons on this special occasion."
"It did." He said with a childish grin.
"Hey. Do you like the name Bertram?" I whispered curious.
"Sorta," he said pointing at himself, "da man, da myf, da legen BERTRAM." And he gave me a smile and off he went leaving me laughing to meself. He'll adjust, he's definitely not a stupid kid even if he does have an arsehole for a Da.
The whole experience just left me wondering what kind of world are we making for our preschool children, that at the age of four they have to know how to count to 50, memorise the alphabet, print their name, and know every colour of the rainbow? Seems a lot of stress to use Bertram's daddy's favourite word, to put on one so young. Anyway, I got me new tyres, and thanks to Bertram, expanded me horizons in of all places a tyre store.
Gabe
Copyright © 2018 All rights reserved
916
R. Linda:
I had to get new tyres on me Saturn and while I was waiting in the lounge area, inhaling the dreadful smell of rubber, a man and his 4 year old son walked in and were sitting behind me. The TV was on a sitcom station of which there was no control, so we were being forced to watch the Addams Family (a version I had never seen before) on cable. Me mind wandered because the sitcom was silly and I really had no desire to watch it. Neither did it seem the man and his kiddo. He said something about crayons and a colouring book but the child did not want to colour.
"How about we do your words?" Daddy asked cheerfully.
"Ugh, I dun wanna." The little tyke replied.
"Come on now Bud, lets practise. Here is a piece of paper and here take this crayon. What colour is the crayon?"
"I dun know." This said with an exaggerated sigh.
"Yes, you do. Come on what colour is the crayon?"
"I s'pose its red." Was the answer.
"Ok then. Lets write the letter R on the paper."
"But I dun wannaaaaaaah!"
"Come on Bud, write the letter R."
There was quiet and then the man said, "Good try but that's backwards Bud."
"Den YOU DO IT!" The child exploded.
I caught meself before I laughed out loud.
"Are we getting internally stressed?" Daddy asked making me almost turn around because REALLY? Who would ask a 4 year old such a question? Maybe daddy was a psychologist? I distinctly remember he looked more like a dad on the dole than any professional, decked out in khaki shorts, a ratty tee shirt, dirty trainers and a scraggly beard. If anyone was internally stressed it was ME from listening to the bullshite coming from behind me.
Me son be 5 years old and I know if I asked him if he was internally stressed when he was frustrated with something, he'd laugh at me first, then make fun of me for the rest of me life. Who does that? Well, that guy quite obviously.
This explosion of child anger was taken by daddy as child distress.
"Now Buddy, you remember how to calm don't you? Take a deep breath, hold it, and slowly let it out."
WHAT? WHAT, WHAT WAS THIS NOW? I could hear the child shallow breathing quickly just to placate his father and there I was breathing in rhythm with daddy! If anyone was stressed it was ME!
"Ok, you know what I'm going to do?" Daddy said not waiting for an answer, "I am going to get a wet cloth for your forehead to soothe you. Ok Bud?" And up he got leaving the child sighing heavily behind me and me looking daddy over to try to figure the dude out. Was he a hippy type, or some geek who home schooled his own way? I had notta clue watching him disappear into the rest room.
I felt a tiny handing taping the back of me shoulder.
"Hey Mister, could ya take dis?"
And as I turned around he handed me the paper, colouring book and crayons.
"What's this?" I asked.
"You colour so I dun hafta."
I felt bad for him but I put the colouring paraphernalia on the seat next to me. He got up and went to the soda machine, looking wistfully at the cans. He hit a few buttons and of course nothing happened. I asked if he'd like a cola from the machine and he lit up. I should have known he was soda restricted, but me heart was melting he looked so put upon.
"Can you even have soda?" I asked thinking I needed to think before I shot me mouth off with a promise of a cola drink.
"I ain't got dieabeatees. I only git a cola sum times like spes'al oakasions. My daddy says if I drink too much a it, it will rot my teef."
"Okay, well lets see your teeth." They were all there and white. "Looks good. This be a special occasion. We'll call it . . . " I thought but he beat me too it with another daddyism.
"Expandin' our horhighzons."
"Okay, expanding our horizons." I popped the bill into the machine and got him a cola. "I have a feeling your Da won't be happy with me." I said handing it to the delighted lad.
"Whats a Da?"
"Daddy." I said putting me wallet away.
Daddy was coming, I saw him looking perplexed at his son and the soda can. I headed him off before he could say a word.
"Hi, I'm Gabe, I hope you don't mind your little one was thirsty so I took the liberty of buying him a drink."
The man was not pleased I could see. Instead he was suspicious I was some pervert. Great! Could this day get any worse? He was looking around like he was looking for security and seeing none, softened a little and muttered a thanks, and informed me that there was a water fountain next to the soda machine. That would have been healthier.
Not liking his attitude, I said as he went to sit next to his son, "Well, with all due respect the water fountain doesn't look all that sanitary." SO THERE DADDY TAKE THAT. Gees.
He didn't respond and from the side of me eye I could see he had slapped the wet paper towel over his sons forehead.
"That's enough sugar water." He said his hand on the can, but the youngster wasn't letting go. "Now Bertram, let go."
Bertram? What kind of name is that for a child? Bertie? Bert? Bertram? And when he was school age, would Birdie Man come into play?
"See GABE, this is what happens when he's had sugar." Daddy said sarcastically to me, making me turn around to see the child had a firm hold on the cola can.
"He be acting like any normal kid who doesn't want his drink taken away." I observed out loud. "Right Bertram?"
"Yup." The wee tyke spouted.
Daddy must have felt slightly embarrassed at me staring at him, so he let go the cola. I turned back around feeling his eyes burning a hole in the back of me head.
Whatever he was having done to his auto his was done ahead of mine. He shot me a nasty glance as he was leaving, but Bertram paused, handed me the empty cola can and said, "Thanks Mr. Gabe."
"Welcome," said I. "I hope the cola broaden your horizons on this special occasion."
"It did." He said with a childish grin.
"Hey. Do you like the name Bertram?" I whispered curious.
"Sorta," he said pointing at himself, "da man, da myf, da legen BERTRAM." And he gave me a smile and off he went leaving me laughing to meself. He'll adjust, he's definitely not a stupid kid even if he does have an arsehole for a Da.
The whole experience just left me wondering what kind of world are we making for our preschool children, that at the age of four they have to know how to count to 50, memorise the alphabet, print their name, and know every colour of the rainbow? Seems a lot of stress to use Bertram's daddy's favourite word, to put on one so young. Anyway, I got me new tyres, and thanks to Bertram, expanded me horizons in of all places a tyre store.
Gabe
Copyright © 2018 All rights reserved
3 comments:
LMAO sounds like a smart kid. The jackass dad sounds like he's been reading genius baby. Talk to the kid like an adult whether he gets it or not.
What is Genius Baby? Is it a new parenting tool? Me Mam never read books on how to raise her kids. One of us turned out good. Hum maybe she should have read a how to.
You're right. There is a lot of expectation placed on our wee ones and it seems to be growing. A lot of pressure for sure. Bertram reminded me of what Weas would have said at that age when he handed over the crayons saying "you colour so I dun hafta!" Lol.
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