A Happy Fakn Eli Story

I have a bad mouth, it's no secret. I swear, I drop F bombs, I say $hit instead of shoot, damn instead of darn, and God instead of gosh. Sometime all of these words can be heard in once sentence in varying combinations. So the following conversation came as no surprise. But God damn, did we laugh.

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Saturday morning, Eli crawled in bed to snuggle, and as he did he was reciting a few lines from "Chicka Chicka Boom Boom," by Bill Martin Jr.  Chicka chicka boom boom, will there be enough room...


He looked at me and said, "Chicka chicka boom boom?"
I answered, "Will there be enough room?"
He replied, "No."
I said, "There freakin' better be."

At this, he was lost in laughter. Completely giddy and giggly, rolling on the down comforter laughing. He made me do it again. And again. In return, I made him promise never to repeat it. He complied.

Fast forward 10 hours, we're all eating take-out around the coffee table. Emma, my 17 year old daughter, says to me, "Did you do something with Chicka Chicka Boom Boom with Eli?" in a tone that indicated this was a rhetorical question.

"Um, yeah..." I answered reluctantly.  "Why?"

"Because today in Wegmans, he repeated it." She wasn't amused.

"Well I didn't swear, I said 'freakin'!"

"Yeah, well HE did!!!" she exclaimed, disgusted with me. Again.

I looked at Eli and said, "Eli, I didn't say the F word this morning! Why would you say that in Wegmans???"

"What F word?" he asked. "Do you mean F...A...K...N?"

I thought about it for a second and looked at Emma, who was laughing discreetly into her napkin. I looked at Tim who was cutting his steak, pressing his lips together while holding his breath. We all knew what the kid was spelling.

"Yes Eli, that's the one."  I guess I need to watch my fakn mouth.

He Wishes

E and Me, Summer 2009

I know this blog up till now has been sillies and funny. But today the Eli-ism I'm choosing to write about is something different, based on a conversation from the other day:

Eli: When I grow up, will I have big hands like everybody else with five fingers on this hand, and five fingers on this hand?(holds up each hand)
Me: No Eli, you won't.
Eli: I won't?
Me: No.
Eli: But I don't like this hand (hits his right hand). It looks like a droid hand. And when I grow up everyone's hands are gonna be big and they're gonna be different. I wish I hand hands like everybody else (he's starting to cry).
Me: But your hands are part of what make you special, and I wouldn't want you any other way.
Eli: But I don't like having these hands.
Me: If I could give you my hands and take your hands, I would do that. It just doesn't work that way. But you are kind, and you're a good friend, and a smart boy, and all those things are more important than how your hands look. And people love you for who you are. You make friends everywhere you go. And a lot of people can't do that.

He crawled up into my lap for about one minute for a cuddle, then was off to play and happy again.

These conversations happen every now and then. Not often. Not even once a month. I don't know what prompted it this time, but after our talk he seemed to feel better.

But that being said, in my heart, I wish the same thing he does...