A Moment with my Children

It was a quiet Sunday morning. I was sitting at the breakfast table with my son and my daughter; all of us eating breakfast together. My children are two and a half years old and talking more and more every day. They were chit-chatting about what they were eating, the fact that it was sunny outside, they spotted a deer on the lawn and got excited and started yelling about animals. But then, things took a strange turn. My son turned to me and said

“The laughter of a child is life’s most precious gift.”

I paused with my spoonful of cheerios halfway to my mouth and looked over at him. Just then, my daughter looked at me and said:

“Would that I could catch a butterfly in my hand and learn its beauty. And thus be fulfilled for all eternity.”

I started looking for hidden cameras or cleverly concealed microphones but found none. I said to them both, “What did you just say?”

“I see a deer!” my son exclaimed followed by my daughter saying “I like cheerios!”

“No no no, before that. What did you say before?” I asked but was met with confused looks.

I finished my breakfast quickly and went to the sink to clean up while my kids finished their breakfast. Then, from behind me, I heard a note-perfect rendition of “America the Beautiful” in two part harmony. I ran over to the table just as it stopped. “What was that?”

“I pooped!”

“You were singing! Where did you learn that?”

“I going to school later!”

I frowned at them both and we ended up having a two minute stare down with my kids smiling and me frowning in confusion. Finally I cracked and started cleaning up the dishes. The kids jumped down from their chairs and ran into the other room to play. I finished cleaning and walked in to the other room. My son was sitting on the floor with various tools and a transistor radio opened with all of its parts scattered around the floor. He was in the process of re-wiring the main circuit board with a very precise set of pliers. My daughter was sitting in the recliner wearing a pair of reading glasses with an open copy of “Crime and Punishment” in her lap. She was on page 543. At this point, my mind broke.

“How old are you? How old are you really?!?”

“I two daddy!”

“How old are you?!?!?”

“I two daddy! I two daddy!” followed by laughter.

At this point I ran for the phone and called my wife at work. She was not at her desk, so I left a voicemail:

“Honey, the kids are older than 2. They have to be! They sang two part harmony and quoted stuff and now they are fixing the radio and reading Crime and Punishment with the tiniest set of reading glasses I’ve ever seen. I think they know I know! I need help! Where did the toolset come from? How did she hide the glasses?”

This voicemail was the final piece of evidence used against me when I was committed to a nuthouse. The kids visit me with their Mom and bring me elaborate hand-made Christmas ornaments and delicate wood carvings. My wife says they were bought at a store. I know better.