Monday, November 8, 2010

Why are you so fat? or how to kill your mother

Toby eyes the service dog skeptically. “Why is that dog in the store?” he asks. I try to explain quietly, since the dog’s owner didn’t look like the chatty type. “But why does THAT guy need him?” he manages as we wheel away. Heck if I know. The guy doesn't look disabled, and you can’t exactly ask people.

“Why are you so fat?” he asks someone. When I, shocked, try to explain why we don’t say that to people, he is confused. “But it’s not a bad thing…” he tells me. 

“WE speak English,” he confides to our Asian waitress.

"Is this where ALL the old people sit?" he asks at the YMCA. I try to redirect him to a more thoughtful term, like grandmas and grandpas.  “Wow, that’s a BIG grandma,” he immediately comments. Hoping she was also a deaf grandma, we just kept moving.

If I tell him certain topics are off limits, that makes it more of a challenge. “I am not going to say she is fat,” he tells me in a stage whisper, pointing at his victim. He chats up the very, very elderly woman at the medical supply store. “Are you…” he pauses, thinking. “Are you YOUNG?” Nailed it, Tobias.

“But WHY do Mexico people speak Spanish?”

“We’re getting a baby.” He tells a woman at Babies R Us. “But it’s not in my mom’s tummy, it’s in some other mom’s tummy.”

“That,” he says, pointing, “is a BAD man.” (this could be any race, he just picks them by their hats, or Halloween shirts)

In his defense, none of his questions are ever mean-spirited. And at home, I answer pretty much anything, and try to explain it in a way that I am willing to have him announce to a crowded restaurant.

Luckily, most people really have a lot of grace for kids. Before R2 got his eye prosthetic, kids used to ask me questions about his little eye all the time, and their parents would be horrified and I was fine answering them.

I like answering Toby’s questions. I like explaining things to him. It’s just becoming a little more complicated, because 4 year olds are SO politically incorrect. And so, so, SO loud. The more embarrassing the question, the louder it will be asked.

I think I need a manual. 


  1. that's how they learn and communication skills are gold!

  2. Isaiah at the doctor's office for Jack's check up:
    "Excuse me! Excuse me, excuse me!"

    Me: "Yes honey?" Stopping convo between me and dr.

    Isaiah, looks straight at the dr and points upwards, "Why you got all that hair in your nose??"

    Unfortunately, he really DOES have a LOT of hair all over his face, like most grandfatherly types (he's probably in his 70's).


  3. so awesome!

    Isaac has not had as many blurtings as Toby. he just asked (right in front of the guy with the HUGE rainbow tattoo across his arm) "why does he talk so funny?" lol

    and did point out several times that the really tall lady in front of us at krogers was HUGE!

  4. Hey honey..... I thought full term was 40 weeks.....

  5. nevermind... sorry... i misread the ticker.... i have been up since 2 or 3 not sure... so many clocks are still an hour behind or ahead....

    I am so excited! Come ON already Seyemore! But wait til Daddy is home... Little darlin....

  6. Well from someone who has had a fairly noticeable defect since age 3, I ALWAYS prefer both children and adults to ask about my eye. I would rather answer every question someone might have about what happened to cause my eye to be all weird then for them to just point, stare, and gossip. Let him ask, you will be amazed at both how open most people are with defects as well as the opportunity for you to meet new people and see into their hearts. It is a neat experience to just explain about my eye...especially to young children. They always gasp, then they ask a ton more questions. The important thing here is that they realize that everyone is different, and it doesnt make them any less of a person because of it.

    By the way: I think you and R1 do a FANTASTIC job managing the blessings that have been given.


Jess here: if Blogger gives you problems, just click "Anonymous" and sign your name. Roll with the punches, folks...

© 2012. Design by Main-Blogger - Blogger Template and Blogging Stuff