A Moment with my Son

One day, I was sitting on the nursery floor with my two year old son. We were rolling a ball back and forth and generally having a great time. Then, he suddenly stopped and threw the ball down the hallway looking highly agitated. I looked down the hallway to see where the ball went. While I was distracted he leapt at me and sprayed a cold mist into my face from a spray can that I had not previously noticed causing me to black out.

When I came to, I was looking up into a bright light. The light was then blocked by the faces of my son and my daughter, who were looking down at me. I sat up as they started circling me with their hands crossed behind their backs and disapproving looks on their faces. My son spoke with a British accent which was curious as we are from New Jersey.

“Father, we shan’t be attending dinner with you and Mummy any more.” My daughter nodded in agreement.

“Um, OK,” I began, still trying to assess my surroundings and get my bearings.

“Furthermore, my sister and I shall be heading out for a bit. We wish to tour the countryside and cavort with the wildlife!”

“The wildlife?” I still felt groggy and tried to clear my head as quickly as possible. As my vision improved, I looked around and realized I was in a jail cell. The cell door was open and my daughter dangled the keys in her left hand held behind her back as she and my son slowly paced.

“Yes Father, the wildlife and the foliage! Oh what a journey it shall be! You shall not interfere. We will leave a note with the authorities that will allow them to find you and release you in 3 days time. By then, we shall be well on our way.”

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” I said to both of them, causing my daughter to frown even more and take a threatening step toward me. “What you think is irrelevant, Father,” she said as she resumed her pacing.

My son continued, “We shall frolic in the countryside and eat strawberries and pick daisies and dance and sing all day! We do need some information from you, however,” my son said as he stopped in front of me.

“Information?”

“Yes. Your vehicle. The silver one. The one that Mummy drives to her place of business.”

“What about it?”

“How does it work?” My son stepped closer with a hopeful gleam in his eye. “The pedals. I’ve seen them. What do they do? How does the car move forward? Does it have something to do with the pedals? You appear to do nothing but there must be some way for your vehicle to propel itself. Tell me! I must know!”

Realizing I now held a bargaining chip, I leaned back against the wall. “And what if I don’t tell you?”

“You will tell us, Father,” my son said as he glanced over at my daughter. “You must tell us.”

“This has gone on long enough!” I yelled as I stood up. “You are both two years old! I don’t know how you suddenly learned to talk so well, or why you both have British accents, but I have had enough! Wait until your Mother gets home, she will not be amused! No Nemo for you tonight! No Little Mermaid either!”

My son took in this rant with a sly grin as my daughter stifled a laugh. “Oh Father, don’t you know that we hold all the cards here? You will give us the information we require, and we shall begin our journey by nightfall. We shall roam the highways—“ Just then, my son stopped in mid-sentence and made an uncomfortable face. “Oh, dear. I have just defecated.”

“What is going ON here?!?” My confusion and frustration had reached their limits as my son and daughter had a concerned conversation about what to do.

Suddenly, my daughter produced an aerosol can and sprayed a cold mist into my face. My son shouted “NO! NOT YET! WHAT DO THE PEDALS DO? WHAT DO THE PEDALS DO DAMN YOU!?!?!” at me as I gradually lost consciousness.

I awoke on the floor of the nursery. It was dark with only the glow of the night light in the room. Thinking I must have fallen asleep and had a very strange dream, I got up and noticed that both my son and daughter were asleep in their cribs. I looked around for a spray can and found nothing. I looked in my son’s crib and noticed he was clutching a set of car keys. My wife’s keys. In my daughter’s crib, I found another set of keys that looked just like the jail cell keys from my dream.

I decided right then and there that my kids would never learn to drive. I also immediately called my cable company and cancelled the BBC channel and any other channel that featured British accents. It was all I could do to keep from screaming. I slowly crept out of the room and down the hallway. From my children’s room, I heard my son’s voice say “’Ello guvnor!” followed by tiny laughter. I wrote a quick note to my wife and fled the house without packing a thing. I am currently in a safe house on the US/Canadian border. Tell my wife I love her.

They are smarter than either of us ever realized.