I am quite certain that my son is not hard of hearing. He has been able to annunciate words like platypus and ominous since before he was 2. That is why I was surprised that when it comes to all things holy, he stumbles.
The first time he asked me about my parents and their whereabouts, we were in the car where we have many deep philosophical conversations of 15 minutes or less on the way to day care. It went something like this:
Son: Mimi is Daddy’s mommy. Mommy, who is your mommy?
Me: Her name was Ramona.
Son: Who is your daddy?
Me: His name was Charles.
Note the subtlety of verb tense is lost on a 3 year old.
Son: Where do they live?
Me: They live in Heaven.
Son: Is that in Kentucky?
Me: According to some…(I laugh to myself) No, heaven is a place we can’t see yet, but everyone hopes to go there one day.
A long thoughtful pause
Son: Do they love me?
Me: Of course.
Son: Mommy, why are you crying?
Me: (sniffling only)
Son: Mommy, why do they live in Kevin?
Me: Hea-ven, honey. Heaven.
And just like that, Kevin entered the vernacular of our family the way other words like piss-sketty enter the vernacular of many other families. It wasn’t until a recent visit from one of his aunts that our vernacular broadened to include another misnomer. Let’s just say she put the fear of “Todd” in him when he was misbehaving on a road trip.
This will provide giggles for us for the rest of our lives. This will be brought up at every Thanksgiving dinner from now until we are in Kevin. See? I just can’t help myself.