“Amy, my mom hits some button and then I see my name,” my 4-year-old and often blunt nephew told me on the way to church 13 days before most of the nation lapses into its annual Turkey Coma.
The little boy sat behind me in his Grandma’s navy blue Buick Regal. His family and mine both attended the place of worship where I was on my way as a volunteer to stuff church bulletins.
As is the case in a lot of conversations with small children, I had not the slightest clue what he was talking about. I made some agreeable comment like “That’s cool” while his younger sister sucked contentedly on her pacy two seats away from him in her car seat.
During the brief car ride his well-intended Grandma popped a tape of children’s cheerful Bible songs into the cassette player, despite having been forewarned by me that her grandson is used to listening to more rocky songs with a beat while riding in his mom’s white Suburban. To her credit, she took a commendable stab at providing listening enjoyment for all passengers.
This time around the preschooler’s dialogue left no one in doubt.
“Do you like this song?” asked his Grandma eagerly, wanting very much so to bring happiness to the ears of her second youngest grandson.
All efforts at feigning pleasure merely to appease his dear and doting Grandma were hopelessly lost on the very young boy. To his credit, honesty is said to be the best policy.
“Um … I think I don’t.”