I’ve seen it often enough that I should believe, but some things, despite the evidence of history, defy belief. I’m talking here, about the things that you intentionally teach children, the things you think you’re teaching them. They don't seem to be paying attention, but then, someday when you least expect to hear such stuff,  they regurgitate your exact words.

Each summer I get to spend 24/7 time with the kids. This is vacation… either at the beach or the farm up in the Pennsylvania mountains. There they are, those kids, around the clock.

While it is my policy to let their mother deal with whatever happens, that’s a lost cause given my butting-in proclivities. Sooner or later…mostly sooner, I’ve got my mouth open and I’m quacking away, spreading the wit and wisdom of Ahno...heh, heh. I’d like to believe that these sessions lead to a wonderfully improved attitude on the part of each child so advised, but let’s face it…kids tune the old people out.

That’s why I was so surprised yesterday. We had company for lunch and afternoon play, two little boys, one Benny’s age, and one as old as Sadie.  While Lydia and the boys’ mother discussed mutual interests, the kids played outside.

At first I worried about Sadie.  Would anyone play with her?  Needless concern. Sadie’s high-pitched bossy little voice announced what she wanted and the younger boy immediately saw where his duty lay. This is typical.  Almost no one has the temerity to disobey her highness. She’s going to be one of the world’s overlords…hopefully a benign one.

So that’s how it went. Moms talking, kids playing. All good. 

Then Lydia suggested fun in the creek at the bottom of the hill. Soon kids in bathing suits and water shoes happily splashed in freezing cold water.  They caught minnows, crayfish, a mudpuppy, a salamander.  They had an absolutely delightful but exhausting time.

After everyone came back up the hill, dried off, had dessert,  the boys’ mom began to think about taking her children home. In country manners, this meant that they’d leave in about forty-five minutes. Leave-taking is a greatly extended ritual. Understanding this, the children continued to play, but now they were very tired, a bit cranky.

Suddenly here came Benny, in a state of high dudgeon.  He stomped into the kitchen and slammed the door.  Dramatic entrance.

Lydia: “Oh, dear, Benny.  What’s wrong?”

Benny: “I’m very mad at Jordan.”

Jordan’s mom: “What did Jordan do?”

Benny…and here’s where my heart swelled with pride and love, knowing that my words of last summer had not been ignored, had, in fact been assimilated into Benny’s vocabulary:  “Well, Jordan was mean to Sadie. First he made invidious comparisons between how he pumped up on the swings and how she was doing it. Then he called her a stinky baby.”

I’m not kidding.  That was an exact quote.  I mean, INVIDIOUS COMPARISONS!!!!!!  I nearly burst with pride and love. That’s my boy.

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