Monday, June 08, 2009
Conversation with a Two-Year Old
The hypothetical situation involves a parent who comes in from a long day of work where she or he spends long hours holding the hands of dying people (completely hypothetical, of course as the Mommy, oops, I mean parent, may have been dancing on their stripper pole or filling tacos at Taco Bell or auditing IRS returns). The toddler in question, whose name is um, for the story, um...Mayson, yeah, Mayson. Runs to greet his mother in the colonial blue kitchen with the most adorable off-white wainscoting and crown molding, I mean, in the, um, neutral beige generic kitchen of some anonymous home somewhere in the United States.
This is the conversation that ensues.
Mother: Hey, Boy-Boy, how was your day?
Mayson: Hi Mommy. Garage door up, garage door down.
Mother: Did you have a good day today?
Mayson: (Wide eyed, nodding). Big garage door. Go up and down.
Mother: Did the garage door come up when Mommy got home?
Mayson: Yeah, Mom. Garage door. (Nods enthusiastically)
Mother: Did you have a yummy lunch today?
Mayson: Garage door. Garage door down. (Whispers conspiratorially) Garage door down, Mom.
Mother: And did you watch Mickey's Clubhouse today?
Mayson: Garage door go up!
Mother: What about global warming? Did you figure that out? Call Al Gore and discuss the situation?
Mayson: Ummm Hmmm. Garage door up down.
Mother: And Bin Laden? Figure out where he's hiding?
Mayson: Garage door goes up.
Mother: Think Neil Patrick Harris did a nice job with the Tonys last night?
Mayson: Down. Up. Garage door, MMMMM....(making garage door noise)
Mother: Should I continue to color my hair?
Mayson: Garage door. Big garage door go down.
Mother: Paper or plastic?
Mayson: OOooooh, Mom, garage door.
Mother: Wanna call Grandpa?
Mayson: Babaw, garage door too. Garage door go up.
Mother: What about Noni? Wanna call and see what she did today?
Mayson: Noni has big garage door, little garage door.
Mother: Do you know that I love you?
Mayson: Um hmm. I love doo, Mommy.
Mother: Garage door up down, Babe. Right back at ya.
If I were this child's mother, hypothetically of course, I might consider signing him up for some sort of early-intervention OCD program, or looking for the best ivy league garage door repair schools in the country, 'cause he's obviously gifted.