We're babysitting the three-year-old and after supper, he gets a bag of dinosaur fruit gushers as a dessert. He's running his mouth like kids do and he asks me what's the name of the dinosaur he's holding in his hand. I tell him "Ernie". That satisfies him and he eats the candy. Several minutes go by and he's got another piece of candy in his hand. "I got another Ernie."
The kid's gonna think that dinosaurs were named Ralph, Bob, and Ernie. I ought to be ashamed of myself.
No you shouldn't. That is exactly what grandparents are supposed to do. Next step is to wait tactically for Mom and Dad to hear about Ernie, in three-year-old-speak, and wonder what the hell that's all about. :-)
ReplyDeleteIf it REALLY goes well, they will be coming to you with a story of the cutest thing they just heard...
Way to mess up a young mind. :)
ReplyDeleteMy son was about eight before he figured out that the music in restaurants wasn't from tiny musicians in the ceiling, or that pork chops weren't cut off of live pigs with an axe.
ReplyDeleteThe kids in my family were teenagers before they knew this ugly appendectomy scar of mine wasn't really an arrow wound from when I soldiered with Custer.
ReplyDeleteMake that 7th Cavalry, please.
ReplyDelete