I Think Kids Say the Cutest Things
My four-years-older big brother has always had a habit of saying what he thinks. Mercifully, he has developed some discretion filters, but he has starred in some classics.
When he was five, he approached a member of our church (Dad was the preacher) and said, "Y'know, Leota, you're not near as fat as everybody says you are."
At seven, he told the SAME woman, who had several times disturbed a group of men working on a new remodel of the sanctuary to tell them dinner was ready and going cold on the table, "Leota, why don't you go sit down? You're just makin' a fool of yourself."
Another time, exasperated by my extended family's habit of starting to say goodbye at the end of a visit in the living room, moving to the kitchen for another half-hour of yakking, then out onto the porch, etc. My brother went to the porch steps, put a hand against the post at the steps and leaned on his hand the way the grownup men were fond of doing. Somebody asked him what HE was doing. "I'm playin" really goin' home."
When he was twenty he was elected Sunday School Superintendant. I can only assume any aye votes were from people who'd never met my brother. I can tell you Dad went a peculiar shade of pale when the votes were tallied. As his first official act in his new capacity, my brother stood up in Sunday morning service, said, "Excuse me, Dad," and called to the only son of one of the church pillars' families, who was holding HIS first and only son, the only grandson of the family, and said, "Billy, why don't you take that crying baby out of here? Nobody can hear the sermon."
When he was five, he approached a member of our church (Dad was the preacher) and said, "Y'know, Leota, you're not near as fat as everybody says you are."
At seven, he told the SAME woman, who had several times disturbed a group of men working on a new remodel of the sanctuary to tell them dinner was ready and going cold on the table, "Leota, why don't you go sit down? You're just makin' a fool of yourself."
Another time, exasperated by my extended family's habit of starting to say goodbye at the end of a visit in the living room, moving to the kitchen for another half-hour of yakking, then out onto the porch, etc. My brother went to the porch steps, put a hand against the post at the steps and leaned on his hand the way the grownup men were fond of doing. Somebody asked him what HE was doing. "I'm playin" really goin' home."
When he was twenty he was elected Sunday School Superintendant. I can only assume any aye votes were from people who'd never met my brother. I can tell you Dad went a peculiar shade of pale when the votes were tallied. As his first official act in his new capacity, my brother stood up in Sunday morning service, said, "Excuse me, Dad," and called to the only son of one of the church pillars' families, who was holding HIS first and only son, the only grandson of the family, and said, "Billy, why don't you take that crying baby out of here? Nobody can hear the sermon."
