We’re pretty open and honest with our kids. Andrew and I don’t hesitate to tell our kids how we feel about things (me, probably more than him) and as a result, they sometimes pick up on our strong opinions about certain issues. Like smoking.
Yesterday, while dangerously running after school errands with all three kids in tow (you never know how 4:00pm errands are going to go after a long day of school, play, etc.) we pulled into the grocery store parking lot to finish up our requisite tasks. As we steered into our parking spot, our four-year-old son (Mr. “Dilvrums”) started saying out loud, “uh-oh. Uh-oh, Mommy. Look at that man! Look what he’s doing!”
The man in the truck next to us had his hand hanging out the driver’s side window; a burning cigarette in his index-middle finger clutch. As he intermittently took a pull from the cigarette, our son kept proclaiming the same warning: “Uh-oh…uh-oh…he’s doing something bad!’
After unbuckling our two-year-old, the older two kids proceeded to climb over the middle seat from their third-row positions. Oldest child now exited the car, our middle son awkwardly completed his over-the-seat self extrication, elastic waist band pants slipping to half mast in the process. As he turned to join the other three of us outside the car, he effectively mooned the smoking man who was watching the whole circus act with great intrigue and entertainment.
I, of course, started laughing at the beautiful irony of the whole thing: an accidental exposure of a four-year-old’s back side in mockery of the dirty habit he’d just been noticing.