A cute e-mail I got from my mother-in-law today:
While I sat in the reception area of my doctor's office, a woman rolled an elderly man in a wheelchair into the room. As she went to the receptionist's desk, the man sat there, alone and silent. Just as I was thinking I should make small talk with him, a little boy slipped off his mother's lap and walked over to the wheelchair. Placing his hand on the man's, he said, 'I know how you feel. My mom makes me ride in the stroller too.'
As I was nursing my baby, my cousin's six-year-old daughter, Krissy, came into the room. Never having seen anyone breast feed before, she was intrigued
and full of all kinds of questions about what I was doing. After mulling over my answers, she remarked, 'My mom has some of those, but I don't think she knows how to use them.'
Out bicycling one day with my eight-year-old granddaughter, Carolyn, I got a little wistful. 'In ten years,' I said, 'you'll want to be with your friends and you won't go walking, biking, and swimming with me like you do now.
Carolyn shrugged. 'In ten years you'll be too old to do all those things anyway.'
Working as a pediatric nurse, I had the difficult assignment of giving immunization shots to children. One day I entered the examining room to give four-year-old Lizzie her needle.
'No, no, no!' she screamed.
'Lizzie,' scolded her mother, 'that's not polite behavior.'
With that, the girl yelled even louder,
'No, thank you! No, thank you!
On the way back from a Cub Scout meeting, my grandson asked my son the question. 'Dad, I know that babies come from mommies' tummies, but how do they get there in the first place?' he asked innocently. After my son hemmed and hawed awhile, my grandson finally spoke up in disgust.
'You don't have to make something up, Dad. It's OK if you don't know the answer.'
Like all growing boys, my teenage grandson, Jerome, was constantly hungry. I went to my refrigerator to find something he might like to eat. After poking around a bit and moving the milk and juice cartons, I spotted a bowl of leftover chili. 'Hey, Jerome,' I called out excitedly. He came running into the kitchen. 'Look! I found some chili.'
Struggling to be polite, he said, 'If you're that surprised, I'm not really sure I want it.'
My last name is a mouthful, so when my three-year-old niece learned to spell it, I was thrilled, until my cousin burst my bubble.
'You can spell Sczygelski any way you like,' he pointed out. 'Who's going to know if it's wrong?'