Chatter at Dinner

The children's menu contains a big drawing space, at the bottom of which is a double turntable. Son picks up his red crayon and draws a stick figure that I later learn is himself. He has on giant headphones, and both hands have fingers splayed out across the turntable. "Oh look," I say when he holds up his picture. "You drew a DJ!"

He looks back at me, confused, "What’s a DJ?"

"It’s a guy who spins records," I tell him, not sure how he could draw someone spinning records if he's never seen the image before.

"What’s a record?" he responds.

* * * * *

Daughter, anxious to get in on the conversation, offers me a prompt. "How was my day? How was my day at school?" she asks in a pleasant, curious voice.

"How WAS your day?" I reply dutifully, even though she did not go to school but spent the whole day with me.

"Good," she says, closing her lips tightly.

"What did you do today?" I ask, try to engage her.

"I can’t tell you. It’s a very secret," she says, and turns back to her food.

* * * * *

Having asked for a glass of water, now that he’s finished his milk, Son looks confused as the waitress walks away. "How come she is going to get a new cup?" he wants to know, pointing to his empty one.

"Because that one had milk in it."

"But she should just rinse it out," he says. "That’s wasteful."

* * * * *

On the way home from the restaurant, Daughter exclaims with delight, "Daddy, look. I found another key. Look, Daddy, LOOK!"

"Honey, he can’t look," I say. "He’s driving. He has to look at the road."

Son interjects, "You could tell him which way to go."

"No," I say. "He has to look where he’s going; otherwise, it's very dangerous."

"Well," says Daughter. "He could just go this way [leaning to the left], that way [leaning to the right], port side [left], starboard [right], over the deep blue sea."

* * * * *

Getting out of the car, back at home, Son announces, "Let’s have a race!"

Daughter, already many steps ahead of him, replies, "Okay. On your mark, get set, go!" and starts running.

"No! Wait! I wasn’t ready yet," Son shouts after her.

"I said go," she responds, still running.

"Okay," he concedes, and takes off. With his much longer legs, he manages to pass her about halfway down the driveway. As soon as he does, she turns around. Reaching the top well before him because she only went half the distance, she announces triumphantly, "I won!"

"Noo!" he protests, still running. "You cheated. You didn’t go all the way to the end of the driveway." Thereupon reaching the top, he announces, "I won!"

She looks at him, smiles, and offers a complacent compromise: "It was a tie."

* * * * *

Watching them develop their conversational skills, trot out ideas I didn't know they had, amaze me with their thoughts has struck me with this: children listen, they really listen, when you tell them things. They don't always listen to the things you want them to hear, but they hear everything. It's good to keep that in mind.