Honey, I Patronized the Kids

The other day, my two-year-old daughter, Belle, commandeers her mommy’s underwear, pulls them up over her jumpsuit and runs down the hall declaring, “I’m wearing Mommy’s underwears!” They're so baggy on Belle that they look like granny panties.

Belle’s full of surprises. That is, unless she’s trying to catch you off guard. “Daddy, I’m coming to surprise youuuuu… SURPRISE!” Then she’ll stand there three more seconds and repeat, “Surprise!”

She’s not the best at Hide and Seek, either. She hides in the same closet every time. But I play along. I’m her dad. “Where could Belle be?” I say. “Under the bed?”

Then I’ll hear her little voice: “Nooo…”

“Is Belle behind the door?”

“Noooo…” I wait a couple seconds and the closet door springs open. “SURPRISE!”

“Whoa,” I say, “you totally tricked me!” Belle thinks it’s hysterical.

She’s better at telling jokes, though. True story: She told her first knock-knock joke the other day. Out of the blue, she says, “Knock-knock.”

My wife and I look at each other—genuinely surprised, shrug and say, “Who’s there?”

“Achew,” Belle says.

“Achew who?”

“Achoo-choo train!”

OK, she’s no Bill Cosby. But have you heard other two-year-olds tell jokes? Usually, they’re like, “Knock-knock.”

Who’s there.

“Pizza!”

Pizza who?

“I want some pizza!”

Uh, that’s not funny.

“Ha-ha!,” the kid says, rolling on the floor. I know, I know, you’re supposed to humor the kid. But I’d never do that. Gives them a false sense of reality.

People say that Cosby’s comedy is in his facial expressions. Belle’s got that same natural talent. For example, Grandma gave her a book about bats having a picnic at the beach. Like most children’s books, the bats are doing human activities. Why? Who knows. And, of course, the bats look much, much cuter than real bats. It’s like how every male comedian on a sitcom has a wife who’s way cuter than she should be. Yet, despite the cute bats, Belle is still scared of her book. I try to tell her the bats aren’t scary.

She tilts her head with a half-smile and says convincingly, “The bats aren’t scary… they’re fun!”

“Alright, that’s the spirit,” I say and open the book. Then, the smile leaves her face.

“They’re… fun,” she repeats, much less enthused, swallowing hard.

I turn the page, she sees a bat playing volleyball, and she makes a face like Bill Cosby after Fat Albert stepped on his toe.

(Note to self: Don’t let Belle be your poker partner in Vegas.)

I guess the moral is two-year-olds are like a box of chocolates; you never know what you’re going to get. Unless you’re playing Hide and Seek.

Copyright Christopher Hollenback, 2007, all rights reserved.