Heated discussions get a little funny

#3625093 Word Count 870

My father was quite funny once in a while when our discussions got a little heated. I picked up the same trait as well and not only with my children.

You got me there!

When I was around twelve years old my maternal Grandmother, Grandma Gray, and I were discussing/arguing, depending on your point of view on the "You need to listen to your elders" speech. "Why do I have to listen to my elders Grandma?" I frustratingly asked, again! "Because since they are older than you are, they have seen more of life and therefore have more experience than YOU DO she emphatically stated." "But Grandma, there are stupid old people as well as stupid young people, right?" She quickly smacked me hard on my right thigh while laughingly stating, "You got me there Hollis! You got me there", she repeated.

Now is not the time!

A little over thirty years later, I was driving my son Alan and daughter Loraine to school. On the way, Alan was arguing that he did not want to do all of the chores he that I gave him, which was not much in my opinion. The discussion was starting to get out of hand, to which I stated, ALAN, end of discussion! I do not want to hear about this any longer, you are going to do all of your chores, and that is final! Then he sarcastically quoted from the movie Ace Ventura when nature calls, "FINE, let's just do everything that you want to do!" ALAN! Now is not the time for that! Then I started laughing, well, I have to admit, that was funny. Then all three of us started laughing it up!

Spelling Uh-uh.

When Alan was in first grade, he entered a talent show. At the time, he had only been taking piano lessons for about 6 months. He played Fur Elise (by Ludwig van Beethoven) quite well. It was a big hit! Later that evening at dinner, I was trying to prompt Alan to talk about the day's happenings. However, with every question I asked, he would simply mumble two words, uh-huh for yes and uh-uh for no. Getting very frustrated, I lectured him on the need to speak in full sentences while looking the person he is responding to in the eyes. I summed it up by empathically asking, "Besides Alan, you don't even know how to spell uh-uh do you? To that, he looked me right in the eyes and said, Uh-HUH! N-O!

When do boys mature?

My daughter Loraine is now nine years old, almost three years younger than her brother Alan. She came to me while I was working very seriously and pointedly stated, "Your son is SO childish", as she flicked her very long blond hair from the front over her right shoulder and then placed her hand on her right hip. I stopped working, took off my eyeglasses, and turned face-to-face with her to focus on her every word. This is a serious situation I mused to myself! "What's going on Loraine?" I asked compassionately. "Well,", she started, trying not to smile too much. She went on for about five minutes telling me all of the antics of Alan distracting her while she was trying to finish her homework. Then summed it up, "He is such a baby!" "Loraine, you have to give Alan a break. Boys don't mature as quickly as girls do." They don't? "Nope!" "I think it has something to do with a girl's mind needing to mature long before her body is ready to start bearing children." "Oh." She quickly responded. "So, when do boys mature Dad?" Caught off guard a bit I had to think that one over a bit. She was getting impatient and crossed her arms while waiting for my response. I finally said, "I don't exactly know for certain Loraine, I'm sorry." "I don't think that I am fully mature yet myself!" She then smiled and skipped away repeatedly chanting, I'm more mature than Dad is..."

When did you say...?

I was proud to see how well my daughter Loraine, was maturing into a strong, independent young woman, just as her mom, her grandmother, and my three older sisters are. That early maturing though can be a double-edged sword. We would have several battles mostly over my wanting to ensure she was safe as compared to her wanting/needing more autonomy. At times, she would get so upset, that she would break off the discussion, stomp her way up the stairs to her bedroom all the while yelling, "I cannot wait until I'm eighteen and move out of this place!" Every once in a while, I would catch her off balance by calling her back down, "Hey Loraine, would you please come back down here for a minute?" After a few seconds, she would slowly stomp halfway down the stairs, peering just under the ceiling, sigh, and say, "What now?" I would then reply with a big smile on my face, "When did you say you were going to move out?" She would yell, "SHUTUP Dad!" And run back up the stairs to her bedroom slamming the door shut!