It’s funny how our brains cycle through things. I have a list to subjects that I will be writing about at some point… probably, most of them definitely, with a few maybes. The thing is as a result of the few pieces I did on little people my brain has started pulling up more little people storied that I have in the story database in my mind. Of all these stories coming to mind, today I find myself sharing another story of about a friend’s kid, which always puts a smile on my face. And again, out of respect for their privacy, I’ll be changing a few names.
This little story took place about 8 years ago, in Logan Utah, when both my friend Hanson and I were going to school at Utah State University. Hanson and I have been friends for a long time, so it was nice when we eventually both ended up at the same university. By this point in his life, Hanson had familyified himself, err… well he has started a family I mean. He was already married and had two adorable olive skinned girls by this point in his life. Hanson’s wife is full blooded Argentinean and was kind enough to pass along her pigmently enriched flesh tones over to her children. Hanson has always been grateful for this, due to his personal experiences being pigmently challenged and spending a lifetime wearing hats or bathing in SPF 45 before going outside to play.
So one evening, while we went out enjoying some sushi at the only sushi restaurant in town, he relayed this little story to me about his oldest daughter Elise, who was four or five at the time. Elise had been playing over at a friend’s house earlier that week. As is often the case with little people playing outside for an afternoon, there is a placed between lunch and dinner that kids find themselves famished and waiting until dinner is usually a suggestion met by much hostility, a little whining, stomping, flailing about, screaming, and more often than not, tears.
When Elise’s friend, Janet, told her mom that she was hungry her mother took this as a perfect opportunity to avoid fighting with her daughter and told her she would fix something for her and Elise. Fish sticks were the first thing that popped into her mind, because she knew Janet would eat them. Janet’s mom then asked Elise if she would like some fish sticks.
“No.” said Elise. Then after thinking for a moment added, “Brown people don’t like fish.”
Janet’s mom was a little unprepared for this and asked, “What do you mean Elise?”
“Well, my dad’s white and he likes fish, and my mom’s brown and she doesn’t like fish, and I’m brown and I don’t like fish, and my little sister Anna is brown, and she doesn’t like fish either. So brown people don’t like fish.”
“Ok,” Laughed Janet’s mom, “I’ll fix you something else.”
Janet’s mom then walked into the house, over to the phone, and called Elise’s mom to share Elise’s logic as to why brown people don’t like fish.
Hanson and I had a good laugh about that one. We marveled at Elise’s process of logic based on her limited access to information. Even thought it was an extremely inaccurate statement, based on her current knowledge base about fish and brown people and her deduction based on that, she was 100% correct. Hence the logic of a five year old, always exercising their right and determination to be right, even if they are wrong, in a way, they are still right. And in a way, even as adults, I think we all have moments like that from time to time. Thinking we’re right, even when we’re wrong, but based on what we think we know, we’re still right… No matter how much we change, sometimes we’re all still the same.
What are some of your child logic experiences?
Google Images, key words: cursing kid, fish sticks, and no fish.
I have two child logic stories, both from my oldest son. The first involves me getting on to him for running in the house (I think he was about 2 1/2 or 3). Pointing to the cartoon dirtbike on his shirt, he said, “I’m not running, I was riding fast on my motorbike.” The other instance, we were dining at a fast food place (he was around the same age). Now, getting a small child to eat can be like pulling teeth and much to our displeasure, he kept (purposely) dropping his food on the floor. When asked why, he simply told us, “you’re not supposed to eat food off of the floor.” These are just a few of the many times my kids have let me speechless–and just a tad jealous that I couldn’t come up with such good excuses to get out of obligations
Haha. Those are great Bianca. 🙂 Thanks for sharing those.
One of mine springs to mind. The youngest was in about Grade 3 of elementary school. One morning I slept through alarm time. In the flurried panic that followed I mentioned that the alarm had failed to go off. “No it didn’t mummy”, says she. “It was making me wake up so I came in and turned it off”. Almost 2 decades later she’s still a dormouse!
That’s great… I think my inner child has done that to me a few times myself. 🙂
What a gorgeous story!
When my friend’s son was six (I was living in France at the time), he asked me how we said ‘piss’ in English. I told him that in England we call it ‘wee wee’. He thought about it for a while and then said with a sly grin, ‘it’s a bit silly to call it oui oui, they should really call it yes yes!’ I thought that was the funniest and cleverest thing I’d heard in a long time, and regale everyone with the story, much to his embarrassment (he’s thirteen now)!
Thank you, I’m glad you enjoyed it. And what a grand story of your own. 🙂 Thanks for sharing it.
How about a reasonably cute story. My Daughter is 13 months and speech is not quite her forte, but she does pick up on things very quickly and I can only imagine how talkative she will become once she does. But My wife has taught her the finger. Not “The Finger” but the finger of power that only Monkey Magic can bring. I am not familiar with this Monkey Magic phenomena, but it was my wife’s favorite thing growing up. You take your index finger and blow on it-what this does is beyond my understanding. Then you touch fingers and, I guess, are infused with the power of a Monkey.
Well, Aniela has mastered the pointed rigid finger, still working on the blowing part. I think, like her father, she doesn’t quite understand the point, which might mean I am on the same developmental stage as my 13 month old at 32…Anyway, each night, after her bath, the wife flies her into the room and I kiss her on top of her head. This ritual is done three or four times and then she is off to bed. Right before she leaves the room, however, she will call out to me, “Tata!” and then flash me the Monkey Magic finger.
I melt. Lack of understanding aside, I reach out with my own Monkey Magic finger and we touch. I do something like make explosion sounds and she gets all giggly and then flies off to bed to fight whatever it is 13 month olds battle in their cribs at night. My guess is their bladder, but I might be reaching.
Nice story Scott! Thanks. And I’m with you, I don’t get the Monkey Magic finger either… I mean considering what monkey’s use their hands for from time to time… all I’m saying is… yeah, that’s all I’m saying. 🙂 Although, I do recommend watching the MST3K Episode, Time of the Apes to help validate my point.
More of an illogic story, but still funny. I have identical twin nephews, in their twenties now, but I remember I was babysitting them when they were little, about five, and they got into an argument. Jim says to Andy, “You’re so stupid!” To which Andy replied, “Well, you’re ugly!” Still makes me laugh now!
Haha! Brilliant! That’s great, thanks for sharing Janis