My Evil Genius
Jun. 17th, 2010 08:06 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
porphyrySometimes Andrew says things that are so funny and exasperating all at the same time, I feel compelled to record them here for posterity.
Years ago, a friend of mine, Erica, and her husband, Sam, lived in the area while Sam was in school at Concordia Seminary. At the time, Andrew was about three to four years old, and Sam, especially, found Andrew to be the most charming child he'd ever met, largely because of Andrew's verbal skills. Currently, Sam and Erica live in South Dakota, their home state, but Sam still asks about Andrew.
Andrew talked early and well. I know most parents like to believe their children are always the most gifted and most intelligent of all children that ever lived, and while I certainly don't believe that about my kids (they are human, after all), even Andrew's pediatrician commented on the rapidity of Andrew's speech development as well as its sophistication. Literally, by the time he was two years old, a person could hold an interesting conversation with him.
This is especially charming to adults, and still, to this day, Andrew will strike up conversations with anybody, anywhere.
"He is so cute," people tell me, after he's given these strangers a condensed version of his life story in about five minutes.
"Right," I reply, not mentioning how his conversational skills leave me completely nonplussed most of the time.
Yesterday, I had a long work day and the kids were at my mother's because Malkhos is trying to finish two or three articles at once. Around five o'clock in the afternoon, I called to see how the kids were.
My mother was frazzled. I could tell just by talking to her, by the sound of her voice, that Andrew and Madeline had run her ragged all day. Madeline had just knocked over a lamp.
I sighed. "Let me talk to the boy," I said.
Andrew got on the phone. "Hello?"
"Andrew, why have you and Madeline been difficult all day?"
He paused.
"Andrew," I said. "Answer the question."
"What was the question again?" he said.
"I asked you," I said, slowly and loudly, "Why you have been acting like a horse's ass all day."
"I don't know," he said.
"Andrew, that's not an answer," I said.
"Are you at work?" he said.
"Yes, of course."
"Do you have your cell phone?" he said.
"Yes. You know I always do."
"Okay," he said. "I have a plan. I'll call you back when I figure it out. I'll leave a message if you can't answer the phone."
"Andrew," I said. "I do believe I'm going to put you on the next train to South Dakota for a nice long visit with Sam."
Years ago, a friend of mine, Erica, and her husband, Sam, lived in the area while Sam was in school at Concordia Seminary. At the time, Andrew was about three to four years old, and Sam, especially, found Andrew to be the most charming child he'd ever met, largely because of Andrew's verbal skills. Currently, Sam and Erica live in South Dakota, their home state, but Sam still asks about Andrew.
Andrew talked early and well. I know most parents like to believe their children are always the most gifted and most intelligent of all children that ever lived, and while I certainly don't believe that about my kids (they are human, after all), even Andrew's pediatrician commented on the rapidity of Andrew's speech development as well as its sophistication. Literally, by the time he was two years old, a person could hold an interesting conversation with him.
This is especially charming to adults, and still, to this day, Andrew will strike up conversations with anybody, anywhere.
"He is so cute," people tell me, after he's given these strangers a condensed version of his life story in about five minutes.
"Right," I reply, not mentioning how his conversational skills leave me completely nonplussed most of the time.
Yesterday, I had a long work day and the kids were at my mother's because Malkhos is trying to finish two or three articles at once. Around five o'clock in the afternoon, I called to see how the kids were.
My mother was frazzled. I could tell just by talking to her, by the sound of her voice, that Andrew and Madeline had run her ragged all day. Madeline had just knocked over a lamp.
I sighed. "Let me talk to the boy," I said.
Andrew got on the phone. "Hello?"
"Andrew, why have you and Madeline been difficult all day?"
He paused.
"Andrew," I said. "Answer the question."
"What was the question again?" he said.
"I asked you," I said, slowly and loudly, "Why you have been acting like a horse's ass all day."
"I don't know," he said.
"Andrew, that's not an answer," I said.
"Are you at work?" he said.
"Yes, of course."
"Do you have your cell phone?" he said.
"Yes. You know I always do."
"Okay," he said. "I have a plan. I'll call you back when I figure it out. I'll leave a message if you can't answer the phone."
"Andrew," I said. "I do believe I'm going to put you on the next train to South Dakota for a nice long visit with Sam."
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no subject
Date: 2010-06-17 02:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-17 02:17 pm (UTC)I suppose you could describe it that way. They do have long, snowy winters and blizzards. I have visited the state quite extensively; it's a lower populated state than some, but its terrain is quite beautiful actually. You just have to like the idea of not too many people around you and a rather frontier-like environment. The funny thing is, though, is that summer there is just as hot as in the southern part of the United States.
I remember driving through the Badlands one day, and maybe we saw five other cars overall for the whole day. I kind of liked it, but I wouldn't want to endure their winters.
no subject
Date: 2010-06-17 02:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-17 03:06 pm (UTC)I think the term comes from the poor saps who had to travel across them to reach the Pacific Northwest. It must have been hard in horse-drawn covered wagons; plus, there were Sioux Indians all around at the time, and they were pretty hostile to settlers.
http://farm1.static.flickr.com/47/145743225_8bbba48ca7.jpg
http://www.planetware.com/i/photo/badlands-national-park-south-dakota-sdbdl1.jpg
See the pictures.
no subject
Date: 2010-06-18 11:39 am (UTC)The earliest conversation that went this way occurred when he was two. He had a bad habit of putting too much food in his mouth for my comfort; my greatest fear was choking.
"Andrew," I'd say. "Don't cram so much food in your mouth."
"I'm a good crammer," he'd say.
no subject
Date: 2010-06-21 08:39 pm (UTC)