Our grandson's name is Alex. Here he is pictured with Pam. The one with the scarf thingy around his neck is Alex.
Alex was mystified at first. He wondered who these strange people are / were / might be. It was us. Me and Pam. He wasn't too sure.
Alex's name is really Alexander. But some times he's called Zander. And sometimes he's called Alex. His dad called him Alexander most of the time and in this last visit, for the first time, I heard "Al" from his mom.
So the poor kid may have that confused look on his face because he doesn't know who the heck (I wanted to type hell, but some people might find that offensive so I didn't) is that person that they are talking about. He's thinking, "This Zander person apparently smells bad and I don't want to be around him".
Then later after he had acclimated. I got to hold Alex.
Normally small children start crying as soon as they see me. They run and hide under their moms skirts. Children who have never been able to walk before finally find the motivation to run under their mom's skirts. Children speak their first words, "Get me out of here!"
And of course I'm exaggerating, it isn't all children all the time... just most, most of the time.
When I got to hold him he looked at me like, "I hope they got the license plate of the truck that ran over your face". But then later he found this fur on my face that seemed to be intriguing.
I told his parents that I looked forward to his getting older so I could show him how to throw rocks at passing cars.
I say these things to be funny and provocative. I thought we would all laugh. Although it was very funny, and obviously hilarious, no one laughed.
But then my son said the oddest thing.
"What kind of rocks?" he asked.
What the heck (I wanted to write hell there, but I was afraid that someone might be offended) kinda question is that.
What kind of rocks?
My usually razor sharp mind which has an instant something to say was blank. It started through the Roll-O-Decks, the data base, the encyclopedia of smart ass things to say.
Empty. Zero. Nada. Zip. Goose Egg. Blanksville (I just made that up, right now... blanksville).
Granite? no.
Igneous? no.
Sandstone? no
What kinda rock would he throw. Hard rocks. The kind of rocks that makes dents in cars...
What kind of rocks?
So I didn't say anything.
And Alex thought that was funny.
©David L Arment