Wit and Wisdom from an 8 year old

My son J.T., who is 8 years old going on 26.

I now realize I have made a major mistake by not carrying a tape recorder with me for the last few years. There are many reasons but the main one is the fact that I have forgotten a large percentage of the utterances of my eight-year-old third son.

I could fill a book but, due to my shortage of short-term memory skills, his latest statements will be confined to one column. And for one of the first times in history, I have asked one of my family members for permission to write about them in a column. Fortunately J.T. has agreed to be this week’s subject.

Exhibits number one and two occurred on a recent trip to Carowinds. It was just J.T. and me, a father-son day. We were geared up to ride any and every roller coaster that eight years old of height would allow on the measuring stick located at the entrance of each ride. The child fared well but the dad struggled on the very first set of twists and turns.

Within an hour I felt like I had the flu, stomach virus, and a migraine headache combined. Not wanting to disappoint the chap, I kept on riding. Finally I had to plop down on a bench with my head in my hands. Says the kid, “We’ll sit here as long as you need, Daddy, and then I’ll find us a roller coaster to ride that will make your head feel better.”

A few minutes later, when we paused to watch a small snake swimming our direction in one of those fake rivers they have at theme parks, he said, “Let’s be moving on. This is starting to make me feel a little unsecure.”

Exhibit number three displayed itself when I was making a sandwich for the little guy. As I was unwrapping a piece of one of those individual plastic cheese slices, he politely announced, “Please don’t tear the edges of the cheese while you’re unwrapping it- you know I’m sensitive about these things.”

I took the lad to a ballgame with me recently. He agreed to go if I would get him some Dr. Pepper and take him out to eat after the game. While pulling into the Golden Corral parking lot afterwards, the child produced exhibit number four when he remarked, “Well, I guess my Old Man can take care of me after all.”

Exhibit number five occurred during a recent video game we were playing together at home. After repeated failures, the eight-year-old sighed and said, “We used to be able to beat that level. I sure do miss those good ole’ days.”

While riding together recently, J.T. and I began to discuss marriage and family issues. Advised a wise father, “Pick out a good woman to marry. The most important thing is that she’s a good person.” Replied the child, “Yes, and I’ll make sure I marry one who doesn’t bark at me.” Oh, the wisdom of exhibit number six.

Of course there are more exhibits which have escaped J.T’s Old Man’s memory. But the best one was on the ride home from our day at Carowinds. An eight-year-old boy laughed at one of my lame jokes and then replied, “Thanks Daddy, for spending all this time with me.” The pleasure was all mine.