If The Snake's On Fire

Pam: When Ross was little we lived in a house in a new neighborhood in the suburbs. It had a wonderful big back yard that backed up to a sixty-acre community park that had been cleared out of the natural brush of the area. I really enjoyed long walks with my little guy along the creek that ran through the park.

Ann: It sounds really nice.

Pam: It was. But our paradise was shattered when we came home one day to a notice on the door warning us that more than one rattlesnake had been discovered in the park! It said we should carefully check our back yard each day before letting out the dogs or children!

Ann: Wow. That’s scary!

Pam: I was petrified. I’d check the yard vigilantly before I’d send out our dog and then watch him check the yard before I’d let Ross go out into the yard and play. But I was still really frightened at the thought that a snake might crawl into the yard while he played.

Ann: As scared as you were, you can only do so much. Ross was pretty little then, huh? Did you try to talk to him about it without scaring him?

Pam: Yeah I did. We chatted about snakes and how some were dangerous and he assured me he knew all about them already. So I asked him if he knew what to do if he ever saw a snake.

Ann: Did he?

Pam: Well, his eyes lit up at the question and he said, “Mommy I’ve learned a lot about emergencies and I know just what to do.”

Feeling a little relieved I told him that was wonderful and asked him to tell me what he should do if he ever saw a snake. And he said, “That one’s easy….stop, drop, and roll!”

Out Of The Mouths of Babes

Ann: I about died laughing at what little Charlie said at the party Saturday night! Wasn’t that hysterical?

Pam: What did he say?

Ann: About his mother being drunk.

Pam: Wow. I missed that. I guess I wasn’t in the room at the time. What happened?

Ann: It was so funny. A bunch of us ladies were standing around swapping menopause stories and I was saying that what bothered me the most was the mood swings. I asked Charlie’s mom, Cathy, if she finds herself crying for no reason or inexplicably snapping at her family. She said she didn’t think so but that only her husband and boys could give a truthful answer to that question.

Just then little Charlie comes in and sees Cathy with a glass of wine in her hand, chatting and laughing with me and the other ladies about night sweats and such. He watched us all for a few minutes and then breaks into our little circle and looks up at her and says, “Oh great. Dad couldn’t come tonight and now you’re drunk. Who’s going to drive home? Me?”

Pam: Was she really drunk? That’s not like her at all.

Ann: She was on her first glass of wine for goodness sakes. But Charlie was seriously concerned.

Pam: What did Cathy say to him?

Ann: She tells him what I just said, that she’s only had one glass of wine and that by the time they’re planning to leave in a few hours she will most certainly be absolutely fine to drive them home.

But then Charlie says, “But you’re drunk!” And so I ask, “Charlie, what on earth makes you think your mother is drunk?” And he says, “Because she’s never this happy at home!”

Pam: He didn’t! How funny!

Ann: We were all in stitches. Honestly, we were wiping the tears from our eyes. And without missing a beat Cathy says to me, “I guess that answers your earlier question about if menopause has affected my mood!”

Pam: Little Charlie is the master of unintentional humor. One of my favorites is when I was babysitting him when he was about three. We were on the floor playing with his cars and I was chatting with him, helping him learn to answer basic questions about his family.

I asked, “Do you have any brothers or sisters?” And he said, “I have two brothers.” And I asked, “What are their names?” and he gave me their names. Then I asked, “Who else is in your family?” And he said, “Mommy and daddy.” And I asked, “And what are their names?”

Charlie answers, “Cathy and Daddy.” And I say, “Yes, your mommy’s name is Cathy, but what is your daddy’s name?” And he says, “Daddy!” So trying to get him to understand by getting at it a different way. I ask, “No, Daddy is what you call him. But he has a name. What does your mommy call daddy?” And Charlie pauses, looks down at the floor and mumbles, “I’m not allowed to say.”

Ann: Hysterical! But it kind of makes me wonder what my kids might have said over the years.

Pam: Me too. But I don’t even want to know!