Sitting around the dining room table where I am checking over my nine-year-old son’s math homework while he works on his science homework while my five-year-old daughter is making some Play-Doh masterpiece that roughly resembles a generous elephant poop.
Son, who is thrilled he’s allowed to stay up until 9:15 to watch some of the Steelers game: Who are the Steelers versing tonight?
(An aside: Yes, since he was a toddler he has picked up this little turn of phrase from his Mexican father who used to say the same thing due to English being his second language. It’s the present participle of versus if versus was a verb, I guess. [shrug] I could correct my son, but it’s not like he’s saying “I seen.” Then he’ll be sent to grammar boot camp. I assume that’s a thing.)
Me: The Titans.
Son: The Tennessee Titans? The Tennessee Titans suck.
Me: That they do.
Daughter: Are we watching the Steelers here at our house?
Me: Yes. Besides, you’re too young to go to a Steelers game.
Son: WAY too young.
Daughter: Can you only go to Pirates games when you’re five-years-old?
Me: Yes. You can’t go to a Steelers game until you’re older.
Son, said as if he is personally ten million-years-old: Because you’re FIVE.
Me: Because people get angry and shout mean things at the Steelers games.
Daughter: But I won’t shout mean things.
Me: No, I mean they shout bad words that you shouldn’t hear. I don’t want you to hear those bad words.
Daughter: [looks at me silently for half a beat then says earnestly] I PROMISE I won’t say any of the bad words I learn.
Son: [falls off the chair laughing]
She’s going to be a hell of a Steelers fan when she’s older.