I always love it when the kids start to show their wit, humor and even a bit of sass.
Doc, the everlovin' chatterbox that he is, constantly asks questions - good questions, dumb questions, pointless questions, and especially ones he already has an answer to. For a lot of them I have to ignore him, but for many I give him a one word answer: six.
Why six? Why not. Maybe it's the answer to the universe. Maybe the reply is as pointless as the question. Maybe, if he knows the answer is six, he'll stop asking the really mind numbing ones.
Standing in front of the microwave clock on Tuesday night he asked, "Grampy, what time is it?" He knew it as well as I did but he was nervous that night because he was about to embark on a 4 hour drive to Cape Cod to watch his grandmother get buried and that would make any little kid nervous. So I played along.
"It's 7:30," I said.
"No, it's 7:28," he replied.
I let go my exaspiration and asked, "If you know the answer, why did you ask?"
"Six," he said.
It took me a second and then we both laughed.
I guess I earned that one.
