The Mouths of Babes

It has been a strange week in the world of The Dilettante, and my writing has suffered as a result. On the other hand, I had a chance to reconnect with old friends, eat fabulous restaurant food, and revel in one of the great luxuries of our day, a weekend in the city. Upon returning home, though, I’ve been having trouble getting back into the routine of my normal days. I imagine that this, too, shall pass.

In lieu of the Very Long Post Regarding Closets, the getting out of (as opposed to closets, the organizing of, which is almost certain never to make it onto this blog), I give you a report on my last trip to town with the youngest, who shall hereafter in this story be referred to as, “Speaker of Truth”. Yesterday, I and the Speaker of Truth had been admiring the vehicles on display at the mall, and particularly coveting the electric-blue pickup truck. I was describing it to my partner, and said that I would add on a King Cab and an extended bed, thus making it a $70,000 truck. He whistled. I raised my eyebrows. The Speaker of Truth asked, “Do you have $70?” (He can’t quite put together numbers That Big.) I allowed as how, although I had $70, $70,000 was right out. And he, in his infinite wisdom said, bluntly… “Then you can’t have it.” And thus ended the discussion of the electric blue pickup truck.

On the way home, my daughter started talking about all the construction that we were going past, worrying about the number of trees that had been cut to build the houses, and provide the lots. Eventually she said, “When I grow up, me and my friends are going to save the earth.” And the Speaker of Truth said, “But what are you going to DO to save the earth?”

If only we kept a few four-year-olds in parliament, I think that things could go a lot better. But only, of course, if we listened to them.