From time to time, everyone needs to hear the honesty of a 5-year-old.
“I can see all your pimples,” my nephew said to his cousin. It was not said in meanness, just a fact of life. He could have just as easily said “There are 4 clouds in the sky.” Kids that young are not encumbered with all the social niceties that keep most of us blocked in. To him, facts are facts. And stating a fact can never be wrong.
“You have a big belly, Uncle Shannon.” He could have followed that up with how hairy that belly is, but he decided that the bigness of the belly was facts enough for the day. It’s with that level of honesty, or brutal observation, that allows kids this young to really cut to the heart of the manner.
If he wouldn’t get so bored, I would like to invite my young nephew to the next political debate and allow him to be the moderator.
“I believe that it’s the American people can accomplish anything!” the politician would say.
“I don’t know what that means. I asked why I don’t have enough money in my piggy bank for insulin? Also, I can see your pimples,” my nephew would respond.
I have forgotten what it’s like to be around kids this age. I have two teenagers in my house now, and one 8-year-old. My youngest son was like this. Hell, all my kids were like this. They would point out how very bald I am, how no one wants to go into the bathroom after me, and that my cargo pants don’t have enough pockets. That last one hurt the most.
But they were always right, as is my nephew.
“Oh! You’re going to get into trouble!” my nephew said. Kids this age are also little narcs. They catalog everything. They have not learned polite conversation as of yet, but most have an absolute list of words they are not allowed to say.
“For what?” I asked him.
“You said a bad word!”
In my mind, I ran through a series of colorful language that my other nieces and nephews (and my own kids) have heard me utter. It seems to be the defining trait that they all assign to me. Uncle Shannon is fun, gives great hugs, and also swears. I’m pretty sure my 17-year-old niece learned the finer arts of the curse by hanging out with me. There are times that I have felt bad about it and have made an effort to clean up my language, and there are times I’ve been proud about how they used it.
Going back to my nephew, I tried to determine which four-letter word he heard me say. There are quite a few, and it is possible that I’ve said words with more letters. Sometimes it’s a point of pride the combination of swears that I can come up with. It’s a skill that as a writer comes in handy from time to time.
“You said the S word!” my nephew said.
For most people, this would narrow it down. However, there are several versions of that word that have probably come out of my mouth. I’ve combined it with heel when discussing rude people. I’ve put it right before the word “Stain” to describe even worse people. And in all honesty, I’ve put it with the mother of all swear words to give my opinion on people that are intentionally cruel or don’t put the grocery carts back at stores. They deserve it. Anyway, I really need clarification on this issue so I can apologize and teach my nephew to not talk like Uncle Shannon.
“Which word?” I asked.
“I can’t say it,” he said.
“This one time you can.”
“My mom will get mad.”
“I won’t tell her,” I said. Unlike my nephew, I am not a narc.
He looked around to make sure the mythical MOM was nowhere to be found.
“You can’t say the word Stupid,” he said. “You said stupid.”
My nephew couldn’t understand why I was laughing. In his kindergarten world, calling someone stupid was about the worst insult that you could say. It’s meant with cruelty and hurts worse than when he can see all my pimples or big belly. And without a doubt, it is the one word that is off-limits. What was most hilarious to me, is that of all the words he has heard me say, that one is a no-go. And he’s right.
“Sh*t,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
Then I looked around for his mom as well. But the humorist in me couldn’t resist.
“I’ll make you a deal,” I said. “We will no longer say the S-word.”
“Good,” he said.
“Uncle Shannon?”
“Yes, buddy?”
“Your breath stinks.”
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See the Publisher’s Weekly Review and buy Shannon’s book here:
The Ultimate Stay-at-Home Dad: Your Essential Manual for Being an Awesome Full-Time Father
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