We got to do another one of those FaceTime
sessions with Caleb and Zakary the other day.
Great technology for grandparents.
Kudos to the iPhone people, for sure.
I particularly enjoyed one interchange between Caleb and Cailyn, who was
over here at the time. Those two are
almost exactly the same age. I think
they came in just a week or two apart, if I’m not too mistaken. As a result they seem to speak the same
language. I know they have many of the
same ideas as far as driving parents cuckoo are concerned. Must be a generational thing. That’s always a safe place to place
blame. Anyway, Caleb and Cailyn got into
an argument. Not really an argument like
you might expect a couple of almost four-year-olds to get into, though. They were both laughing. But they were both quite passionate about
their individual claims.
Here’s how it went down. They have discovered that if you move really
close to the screen camera, it looks to the other person that you are moving
close to them. Definitely gives rise to
a myriad of possible scenarios. Throw in
a random suggestion here and there from an innocent bystander such as a
grandfather, and a mundane conversation suddenly becomes a situation comedy
worthy of viewership around the globe.
Well, maybe it wasn’t quite that big a deal, but I thought it was mildly
entertaining.
I began when Caleb stuck his bare foot near
the camera’s eye. I simply remarked in
an offhand fashion, “Oo-wee. That’s one
stinky foot you got there.” And in a
kind-hearted effort to make sure his young son had adequately heard and processed
the comment, his Daddy added, “DadDad wants to know if you have stinky feet.” And that’s how it began. Attack after attack of the stinky feet
began. How could Cailyn not join in the
fun? Hey, I even wanted to take off my
shoes and get in on the fun. Almost did,
too. But that’s about when the verbal part
of the battle reached its height. Caleb
and Cailyn were obviously engaged in a negotiation of some sort. Were they attempting to reach a peace
settlement? Not so much. It did have to do with the offending
appendages, however. They were trying to
determine who had the, well, the stinkiest feet. Caleb’s final proclamation was, “Mine is one
hundred stinky.” Wow. That’s pretty hard to beat. I figured the issue was pretty much settled
right there. But no. There was a female voice yet to be heard in
this matter, and she was determined to have the last word. Cailyn countered with, “Well, mine is …” (She
paused here, probably to gain the needed dramatic effect before making her
final pronouncement) “Well mine is twenty
stinky.” OK. I know what you are thinking. In our world a hundred is usually considered higher
that twenty. But we were dealing with
three-year-olds here. And they have a
language of their own. Remember the whole
generation gap thing. Caleb seemed to back
down. Maybe it was because his Dad
intervened in an effort to get the subject changed before it escalated into
something beyond his control. I think it
was already beyond our control, to be honest.
No, I think there was something in the language of the two three-year-olds
that said, “Twenty trumps a hundred every time.” Perhaps I should turn over my data to a
sociological research center. Maybe I could
get it published. “Intricacies of speech
patterns among three-almost-four-year-olds and their ability to confound the elderly.” Nah.
On second thought, the meanings would probably change before it ever
reached print. And I sure don’t want to
be an object of ridicule among that generation.
I can hear it now. “Twenty
greater than a hundred? That’s so yesterday. Everyone knows that garfel or even otricious
is the way to go.”
Psalms 47:1 says, “Clap your hands, all you nations; shout to God with cries of joy.”
Father, you are truly the most garfel and otricious One that ever was or ever will be. Amen.
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