I Guess He Has Those Days Too

I was in the kitchen yesterday afternoon with the 3 year old.  He was trying to explain to me in his own patois what he wanted to eat for a snack.  The poor kid has me for a mom, and I only speak English( and the bad words in Spanish and French.)

He stood in front of me patiently jabbering and then ending each sentence with “eat that.”  “Eat that” was all I understood.  I smiled apologetically at him and shrugged.  “I’m sorry, #5, I just don’t understand.  Does it have another name?”

He stopped and stared at me for a moment, he couldn’t believe how dumb his mom could be.  Was he not speaking English?  With a shake of the head he turned to the cabinet and pulled out a small bowl, walked back over to the pantry and pointed.  “(Something unintelligible) in the bowl.  Eat that.”  You have no idea how dumb I felt as I shook my head.

“Cheez its?” I asked him.  He shook his head in disgust.
“No.  (Unintelligible sounds.)”
“Yeah,” I answered him.  “I got that part.  I just don’t know what it is.  Is it cereal?”
A tearful voice answered “No.”  I honestly was beginning to feel badly for the kid with the stupid mom.

“Can you show me one more time? I just don’t know what it is that you want.”
“That.  (Unintelligible sound).  That in the bowl.  Eat that.  Pleeeeeeaaaasssse.”
Hopefully, I asked, “Is it popcorn?”

He looked at me with a mixture of pity and contempt.  He shook his head and dropped his bowl on the floor.  He hung his head, paused for a moment to sigh, before he walked over the wall and banged his head against it twice.  Then the kid with the world’s densest mother walked slowly away muttering to himself about dumb grown-ups and his plans for world domination.