Recently, I took some of the kids (three of the boys and their sister) to First Friday. On the first Friday of each month the art galleries open their doors and people go gallery hopping. Refreshments are served and it's a great big social gathering. There is usually music, sometimes a fire, and always a drum circle. Last night it was very hot and humid so we didn't hang around very long.
On the walk back to the car, Harper (the 6 year old) asked if he could get a pet gerbil when he is older. I asked what he considered "older" and was relieved to hear him reply, "I don't know, 12 or 13?" Now while that is quite a few years away, I decided to remain non-committal due to some past issues with "the boy gerbil" we bought giving birth shortly after we brought him home. I was hoping we were done with "pet talk" and tried to change the subject but then the eight year old, Dylan, asked if he could get a pet monkey.
Before I had the chance to squash his dreams, Devin, his big sister, jumped in and saved me. In a quick and very matter of fact tone, she informed him that:
1. You can't just get a pet monkey (you need a license or something)
2. There was nowhere to buy monkeys around here
3. They don't even make good pets!
I was impressed and pleased with how quickly she set him straight. At least I wouldn't have to disappoint him! My relief quickly faded when, for some unknown reason, she proceeded to remind the boys about the two pet monkeys I had as a kid.
Way to make your point kid! Thanks for nothing!
Needless to say, this "reminder" set off a bunch of new questions. It doesn't matter how many times the story is told, the kids always seemed surprised that I had two pet monkeys. Of course, they love to hear all about them. After answering several questions and reminding them of the monkey's names, Dylan said "Cool, can I have your monkey's?" Without missing a beat (and clearly not thinking about what I was saying) I said "Sure, I'll just fly back to New York, dig them up, and you can play with their bones."
Yeah, Yeah, I know that is not an appropriate parental response but what can I say? Let's just blame it on the humidity.
Well, after realizing my offhand remark could invite a bunch of other questions, and possibly concerns, I quickly backpedaled like the best of politicians. I went on to explain that the monkeys died many, many, years ago and that they were long gone. I felt satisfied that I had taken the appropriate steps to distance myself from my hastily made remarks and that seemed to be the end of the conversation.
On the way home we stopped for ice cream. The kids picked out their flavors and toppings and happily chatted while eating. Everything seemed fine. And then, as we were driving home (and some 40 minutes after the initial conversation), Harris (the 4 year old) speaks up.
"Dad?"
"Yes, Harris?"
"You shouldn't dig up your dead pet monkey's because that would be scary!"
I'm not even sure what my response was. I think I was speechless and then quickly felt ashamed that I had worried Harris needlessly. There really wasn't much more I could say or do, so I simply reassured him that I would not be digging up my dead monkeys for Dylan to play with.
Once again, I have been reminded that little people take things very literally. You would think after having so many kids, I'd have learned this valuable lesson by now. Apparently I am a slow learner. So take my advice and please don't joke around about digging up your dead childhood pets. Someone might just take you seriously.
-Scott
Update on this post can be read here: Dead Monkeys, Part 2
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