04 October 2011
Story #458
R. Linda:
Okay, so there is a lot of media talk about job loss and unemployment worldwide. Little ears have picked up on this, which is worrying. I, at first, was mystified at dinner the other night when O'Hare piped up at me that he had a question that was "impordant." He had been fooling with his dinner by chasing his peas around the plate and unceremoniously stuffing them under the mashed potatoes. He'd take his cut-up pieces of pot roast and place each morsel over the peas and potato foundation like he was laying bricks . . . you get the idea. While he was doing all this, he was squirmy like a snake trying to get out of a grasp. Then the question came.
"Is ya gonna lose yer job, Da?" He asked me, fork held in mid-air, eyes sad.
"Uh, not that I know of," I said, a little shocked. "What brings this up?"
"I been hearin' on da telievisen dat everyone is gonna be jobless."
"No, no, we are good. Your Mam and I both have jobs, and we are all right. Not to worry there, O'Hare," I said, shaking me head at such a question from someone so young and impressionable.
"Well . . . if ya boff ever DO need a job, I knows what we can do." He said brightly, waving the fork around.
Tonya was amused at this but was leaving the conversation to us. I dreaded asking what he had in mind, but I did ask and found meself with a possibility I had never thought of or dreamed of. How he came up with it I have no clue really, he said it was from a story the teacher read in school and gave him the idea after he questioned her (probably relentlessly - if I know me son) and in discussions on modern uses he put two and two together and came up with an ingenious plan for a five-year-old.
"We could grow SNUFF!" His smile was the biggest I'd ever seen. Both Tonya and I stopped in mid-chew at this and even Guido threw in his two cents by saying the word, "Sniff!" Well, close enough and related.
I asked him where he got that idea, and he told me. Then I asked him if he even knew what snuff was.
"Yeah, it's tabaccy and ya gits it in a powder almost and ya stick it up yer nose and take a snort. Den ya sneeze!"
Well! OK. The young boyo was right.
"An . . . since da pubbies and bars are not 'lowin' smokin' ya can sell snuff cause dere ain't no law gainst snuffin. We could use Mam's garden and grow tabaccy, and den we can pulveriss' it and ya can sell it to da smoker people in a tin can."
"Oh yes, the smoker people. There be a population of those worldwide," I said, "a big one."
"We could haf a giant snuff farm." O'Hare opened his arms wide, giving me a visual of peas flying everywhere.
"O'Hare, you could tend the 'tobaccy' and process it into snuff, and LaGuardia and I can sell tissues," Tonya said to me with a rueful smile. "I could get lots of tissues from Big Lots," she muttered under her breath.
"Now, Tonya, the lad is onto something." I said, then to O'Hare, "I thank you for the thought, O'Hare; if ever your Mam or me find we need a new job, we'll consider the raising and making of snuff."
"That's what I wanna hear!" He said proud of himself and us.
My, my, my! Me son be either one enterprising young boyo, or he's got some strange ideas floating around that five-year-old noggin of his. I don't know if I should be proud or scared.
Gabe
Copyright © 2011 All rights reserved
R. Linda:
Okay, so there is a lot of media talk about job loss and unemployment worldwide. Little ears have picked up on this, which is worrying. I, at first, was mystified at dinner the other night when O'Hare piped up at me that he had a question that was "impordant." He had been fooling with his dinner by chasing his peas around the plate and unceremoniously stuffing them under the mashed potatoes. He'd take his cut-up pieces of pot roast and place each morsel over the peas and potato foundation like he was laying bricks . . . you get the idea. While he was doing all this, he was squirmy like a snake trying to get out of a grasp. Then the question came.
"Is ya gonna lose yer job, Da?" He asked me, fork held in mid-air, eyes sad.
"Uh, not that I know of," I said, a little shocked. "What brings this up?"
"I been hearin' on da telievisen dat everyone is gonna be jobless."
"No, no, we are good. Your Mam and I both have jobs, and we are all right. Not to worry there, O'Hare," I said, shaking me head at such a question from someone so young and impressionable.
"Well . . . if ya boff ever DO need a job, I knows what we can do." He said brightly, waving the fork around.
Tonya was amused at this but was leaving the conversation to us. I dreaded asking what he had in mind, but I did ask and found meself with a possibility I had never thought of or dreamed of. How he came up with it I have no clue really, he said it was from a story the teacher read in school and gave him the idea after he questioned her (probably relentlessly - if I know me son) and in discussions on modern uses he put two and two together and came up with an ingenious plan for a five-year-old.
"We could grow SNUFF!" His smile was the biggest I'd ever seen. Both Tonya and I stopped in mid-chew at this and even Guido threw in his two cents by saying the word, "Sniff!" Well, close enough and related.
I asked him where he got that idea, and he told me. Then I asked him if he even knew what snuff was.
"Yeah, it's tabaccy and ya gits it in a powder almost and ya stick it up yer nose and take a snort. Den ya sneeze!"
Well! OK. The young boyo was right.
"An . . . since da pubbies and bars are not 'lowin' smokin' ya can sell snuff cause dere ain't no law gainst snuffin. We could use Mam's garden and grow tabaccy, and den we can pulveriss' it and ya can sell it to da smoker people in a tin can."
"Oh yes, the smoker people. There be a population of those worldwide," I said, "a big one."
"We could haf a giant snuff farm." O'Hare opened his arms wide, giving me a visual of peas flying everywhere.
"O'Hare, you could tend the 'tobaccy' and process it into snuff, and LaGuardia and I can sell tissues," Tonya said to me with a rueful smile. "I could get lots of tissues from Big Lots," she muttered under her breath.
"Now, Tonya, the lad is onto something." I said, then to O'Hare, "I thank you for the thought, O'Hare; if ever your Mam or me find we need a new job, we'll consider the raising and making of snuff."
"That's what I wanna hear!" He said proud of himself and us.
My, my, my! Me son be either one enterprising young boyo, or he's got some strange ideas floating around that five-year-old noggin of his. I don't know if I should be proud or scared.
Gabe
Copyright © 2011 All rights reserved
