My nephew Zhak is a pretty smart cookie for a six-year-old and totally cracks me up. I have no idea of where he comes up with half the stuff he does, but he never fails to entertain.
When I stopped for a visit, he was in the middle of folding laundry. It is his least favorite chore and one usually assigned when he doesn’t remember to make good choices. There really were only a handful of things in the pile, which would have taken anyone else only 3.7 minutes to attend to, but Zhak can manage to stretch it out for nearly 3.7 hours.
After answering the door and giving me a hug, he pairs up two matching socks. Next he stops to launch into a litany of the different levels of Zombie (a computer game) he’s managed to conquer. Then he folds a pair of sweat pants. A split second later he’s headed for the bathroom. Five minutes pass and I wonder if he has fallen in.
“I’m going poo poo,” he yells. “Can you bring me a book?” (I’ll spare you from all the details that half a can of air freshener eventually took care of, but these guy things obviously start at a young age.)
He returns and, as he’s folding a T-shirt, shifts gears again because his stuffed dinosaur Trex needs to sit next to me. Now it’s on to underwear. He pauses to explain that while he only has to fold his once, Mom’s must be folded twice because they’re bigger.
At that very moment, the Good Humor man I had spotted two streets away while driving through the neighborhood is now in front of the house playing “Turkey in the Straw” to herald his arrival. The remaining towels, socks and shirts are forgotten.
“MOM!” Zhak screams. “It’s the ice cream truck!”
“Are you done folding clothes?”
“Awwwwwwwwww …”
But since I am visiting, Mom cuts him some slack. He grabs the money, has his shoes on and is out the door in 3.7 seconds. One ice cream sandwich, an orange push-up (for his brother) and $3.75 later (we could have bought an entire box of popsicles for that price) he’s back and manages to expeditiously finish folding the laundry so he can indulge in his frozen treat. I wonder if he just has a short attention span or if, at such a tender age, he’s already mastered the fine art of scamming. I have visions of him ending up on a street corner clutching a sign declaring, “Will work for fudgesicles.”
I, of course, NEVER did anything like that when I was six years old. Remind me, though, to tell you about the time I stole a gallon of ice cream from the milk truck …
When I stopped for a visit, he was in the middle of folding laundry. It is his least favorite chore and one usually assigned when he doesn’t remember to make good choices. There really were only a handful of things in the pile, which would have taken anyone else only 3.7 minutes to attend to, but Zhak can manage to stretch it out for nearly 3.7 hours.
After answering the door and giving me a hug, he pairs up two matching socks. Next he stops to launch into a litany of the different levels of Zombie (a computer game) he’s managed to conquer. Then he folds a pair of sweat pants. A split second later he’s headed for the bathroom. Five minutes pass and I wonder if he has fallen in.
“I’m going poo poo,” he yells. “Can you bring me a book?” (I’ll spare you from all the details that half a can of air freshener eventually took care of, but these guy things obviously start at a young age.)
He returns and, as he’s folding a T-shirt, shifts gears again because his stuffed dinosaur Trex needs to sit next to me. Now it’s on to underwear. He pauses to explain that while he only has to fold his once, Mom’s must be folded twice because they’re bigger.
At that very moment, the Good Humor man I had spotted two streets away while driving through the neighborhood is now in front of the house playing “Turkey in the Straw” to herald his arrival. The remaining towels, socks and shirts are forgotten.
“MOM!” Zhak screams. “It’s the ice cream truck!”
“Are you done folding clothes?”
“Awwwwwwwwww …”
But since I am visiting, Mom cuts him some slack. He grabs the money, has his shoes on and is out the door in 3.7 seconds. One ice cream sandwich, an orange push-up (for his brother) and $3.75 later (we could have bought an entire box of popsicles for that price) he’s back and manages to expeditiously finish folding the laundry so he can indulge in his frozen treat. I wonder if he just has a short attention span or if, at such a tender age, he’s already mastered the fine art of scamming. I have visions of him ending up on a street corner clutching a sign declaring, “Will work for fudgesicles.”
I, of course, NEVER did anything like that when I was six years old. Remind me, though, to tell you about the time I stole a gallon of ice cream from the milk truck …
5 comments:
I vote scam.
And you started much younger than six years old!
I've been waiting for this picture. Very cute! (I'm going to have to hire you to take picture of my kids some day!)
I do believe the McGraw house will be investing in a box of yummy frozen treats that will only come out when that truck comes down the road. Boy does that get expensive!
If you mention my underwear again, in your blog, you'll be folding 2 loads of laundry!
I'm still wating for the beer truck. My laundry is folded.
Please take note that I respectfully restrained from commenting on Deni's underwear.
It was an extremely difficult thing to do.
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