Riding home this evening we were talking about new kids at Allie and Julia's school. One of the new kids in Julia's class is named Brook. We asked Julia if she knew what a brook might be (aside from a first grader who's new in town). We told her that a brook can also be a small stream like a creek or a tiny river.
"No. That's not what a brook is. It's one of those things," she said.
After we made a couple of weak attempts to convince her that we weren't lying she said, "A brook is what they use to make buildings."
"Um, that's a brick."
"That's what her name is - Brook."
"But you said, brick; not brook."
"I said brook, like what they use in buildings."
"Yeah. A brook."
This could have gone on for the entire ride home but instead Julia told us about the abalien kid at school. "He's teaching us to speak abalien," she told us.
We asked her if she meant Albanian. She said, "Yeah, abalien. He's really poor. He said that he only has a hay ball to play with."
For some reason hay ball meant I had reached some kind of tipping point and started laughing until I couldn't breathe. When this happens it's not really laughing it's just some kind of gurgling sound I make as I try to catch my breath. This time my hysterical gurgling really pissed off Julia.
"Stop laughing! It's not funny! Don't laugh at my friend!"
"I'm laughing at you, Julia"
"Stop laughing at me!"
Julia sucked all the funny out of the moment. I sat there, sullen because I'd been scolded by my six year-old. Like she knows it's not polite to laugh at little kids who only have balls of hay for toys. She doesn't know the difference between a damn brook and a brick. She's telling me I shouldn't be laughing at this poor boy's toy?
Yes. I felt guilty. That said I've stopped typing this post twice to cover my mouth so I won't laugh at thoughts of the little abalien boy unwrapping the new hay ball he got for Christmas.
This is one of the many reasons why people tell me I am a bad person.
Sunday, January 03, 2010
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