I was standing in the bathroom a few days ago, trying to make myself presentable before leaving the house. The Gort peered at me from behind the corner. ‘You look sort of skinny,’ he said, and I heard those words and thought ‘yes! maybe I can get away with eating copious amounts of butter!’ Except he had more to say ‘…in your shadow’, he completed the thought.
You look sort of skinny in your shadow? Wow, do I love living in a house full of boys!
We were driving along seventeenth avenue when my oldest noticed a karate studio. ‘Hey, they’re doing karate,’ he announced, pointing to the second floor window of the studio. I glanced over, quickly, since I was driving. Sure enough. A handful of people in white outfits doing various karate moves. ‘Would you like to do karate,’ I asked – enthusiastically – since I’m on a perpetual quest to find what it is the kid wants to do. ‘Nah,’ he declined. ‘Why,’ I demanded.
‘Because in karate they’re just, like, pretending to fight. And they hit blocks with their hands…with, like, karate chops.’ Well, who could argue with that logic! He made it sound practically pathetic.
The first graders performed for their parents and fellow students at an assembly yesterday. I couldn’t help but remember a time not that long ago (last year) when the Gort referred to it as a ‘dissembly’. But now he’s grown up and the only one calling it a dissembly….is me. Which is kind of pathetic.
For the last several weeks he’s sung a few bars of the songs they’ve been practicing for the assembly, specifically the French version of YMCA.
‘Y-gem-skee-A’ he’d sing, followed by ‘Y-gem-skee-A’, followed by nonsensical syllables sung to the tune of YMCA.
‘It’s Y-M-C-A’ I corrected him. ‘No it’s not, it’s French, it’s Y-gem-skee-A’ he insisted. In the mildly irritated tone adopted by people of superior intellect when dealing with those of inferior intellect. Of course, the kid doesn’t know that I was a bit of a francophile in my day; having studied French for a whopping four years in high school. I may have forgotten a few things, but I know ‘YMCA’ is not pronounced ‘YgemskeeA’…en francais.
But, after two or three times of fighting this particular battle, I let it go. I decided to let the kid sing it his way. (Even if it was completely wrong.)
So the big day arrived and we went to the assembly. And all the first graders put on their winter hats; bopping along to the beat of the YMCA tune. ‘Moi, j’aime skier‘ they sang, while performing various ski-related motions. It wasn’t a song about the YMCA, it was a song about….skiing?! I did not see that coming.
When I picked up the Gort from school, I thought I’d clear the air. ‘So, I figured out today that the song was moi, jaime skier‘, I informed him.
‘Yeah,’ he said all annoyed. ‘Y gem skee A.’