"Sam, which of your friends do you think will be there tonight?"
"Well, Michael, Mia, and [REDACTED]. But [REDACTED] isn't always my friend. He's my enemy."
"My enemy. He's my enemy."
"Sam, you're four. You can't have enemies. It's in the Geneva Convention or something."
"But sometimes [REDACTED] isn't nice to me. But sometimes he is. So I guess he's my frienemy."
"...Okay. You can have a frienemy. But just one."
"Two thousand eight. I can't believe we have to wait until 2008 for new episodes of Battlestar Galactica."
"Yeah, I know. Sucks."
"That's like nine months!"
"You made a whole baby in nine months!"
"I KNOW! And the new episodes won't even be as good as a baby!"
"Well, hey, let's not jump to any conclusions..."
"Okay, Sam, which one do you want to ride on?"
"Sam, this is a merry go round. They have all kinds of animals to ride on. There's a tiger, a zeba, a rabbit, even a giant sea horse. Don't you want to ride on one of those?"
"No. I wanna ride on this."
"This... This is a bench, Sammy. I think it's only here because the law requires it for all the little crippled children."
"I wanna ride on the bench!"
"It's lame Sam."
"NO IT ISN'T! IT ISN'T LAME!"
"Okay, people staring now. Fine, whatever, scoot over."
"Yaaay! I'm riding a bench!"
Earlier tonight Sam was sitting nearby when Geralyn decided to be sly and tell me about some Christmas presents her parents were going to get for their granddaughter.
"They had a great Christmas present for Sammy at the grocery store."
"They had C-A-R-S."
"It's a Simpsons reference, sorry. They had what?"
"I said, C-A-R-S."
"I... don't understand."
"Jamie. I just told you: C-A-R-S."
"NO. Jamie, listen to me. C-A-R-S. C-A-R-S!
"I don't understand what you're saying!"
"Would you listen to me? C-A-R-S!"
"Oh my god! And now you're just saying it VERY LOUDLY and with a very red face! And over and over again!"
"Why is this so hard for you to understand? C-A-R-S!!"
"The movie? On DVD?"
"I don't understand! Is this a crazy pregnancy thing? You mean they had toys from the Cars movie?"
"Great, thanks! Now she knows what we're talking about."
"Someone needed to!"
In the last few weeks Sam has flittered in and out of these states of contrariness where she'll argue the opposite of any given statement just for the experience it seems to afford her. She recently demonstrated this again on a rainy day.
"I want to go play on my playground, Daddy."
"Sam, it's raining. You can't go outside."
"It's not. It's not raining."
At this point I walked over to the sliding glass door and looked out into the back yard. Despite Sam's proclomation, water was indeed falling from the sky. "Yes, it is. Look."
Sam joined me at the door and looked out. "It's not raining," she repeated after a moment, looking up at me like I was some kind of cross between a moron and a half-wit.
At this point I just shrugged and slid the door open. "Hokay, suit yourself. I'll keep an eye on you from here."
Sam just kind of stood there on the threshold to the wet world beyond, looking out at the deluge with a mix of confusion and annoyance. After a long pause, she looked back up at me. "It's raining Daddy. You can't go outside when it's raining. Close the door!"
I groaned, then slid the door shut. "This is totally going in the blog, kiddo."
"Hey, Ger, what kind of color is cyan? Is it like a light blue?"
"Yeah. ...Cyan. Isn't that pretty?"
"Meh. If you like light blue, I guess.
"No, I mean as a name."
"For a color?"
"No, dork, for the baby."
"Ugh. No, are you kidding? It's awful."
"I think it's kind of nice. Cyan."
"Why don't we just name her 'Burnt Umber' or 'Flesh' if we're picking names from a crayon box?"
"No. I'm exercising my veto option on Baby Cyan."
"Stop saying 'Cyan!'"
"And what's Daddy doing?"
"I'm playing a game. It's called World of Warcraft."
"Yeah! He's riding on the back of a Griffin."
"It's a bird."
"Actually, Sammy, it's got the head and wings of an eagle, but the body of a lion. It's called a Griffin."
"...It has WINGS, Daddy. It's a bird."
"It's kind of a make believe--"
"Look, I've got a dictionary, I can--"
"It's a bird, Daddy."
And then, her point made, she just kind of walked away.
"Hi! Thanks for calling Gold's Gym! How can I change your life today?"
"Actually, I just wanted some information on membership rates."
"Awesome! Have you ever worked out before?"
"Awesome! Are you a member here?"
"Huh? No, I'm thinking of joining and I want to get information on membership rates. I just moved to town."
"Awesome! Where from?"
"California. San Diego."
"Awesome! How do you like it here? Why did you move? What's your name?"
"Uh, sorry, look, I'm not really trying to make special friends right now. How about those membership rates?"
"Oh, I can't help with that. I just answer the phones."
"You're doing a heck of a job. Is there someone there I can talk to about membership rates?"
"You bet! Want me to transfer you?"
"Thanks for holding, can I help you?"
"Hi, I wanted to get information on membership rates?"
"Awesome! Have you ever worked out before?"
"Are you the same guy?"
"The same guy I was just talking to."
"The guy that answers the phones?"
"No. He's sitting here right next to me, though. You want to talk to him?"
"Look, I just want to get information on membership rates."
"Why don't you come down to the club, work out for a while, and see how you like it?"
"I know what the inside of a gym looks like. I just don't know how much yours costs. THAT is the problem I'm trying to remedy here. Can you just tell me your membership rates?"
"Well, we don't give them out over the phone."
"Because you think someone may be listening?"
"Because they're kind of complicated. It's easier to go over if you're here."
"Can we just pretend that I'm sitting across the desk from you right now? I do know which end of this phone to put up to my ear."
"No, we don't really do that."
I'm not really the handiest of people. I mean, I have hands --two of them-- but I'm not as good as some at using them to build things or install things. And coupled with the fact that that we've just moved into a new place this has led to a lot of conversations like this one:
"There, there's your bathroom rack thing. Freshly installed."
"Is it level? It doesn't look level."
"Did you use one of those things? Those things that make sure it's level?"
"You mean a level?"
"It doesn't look very sturdy."
"It's fi--HEY DON'T TOUCH IT! What were you thinking?"
"I was thinking I might, you know, hang some towels on it."
"Woah, woah, woah. No, this is just for kleenex. One kleenex. Kleenexum."
"Towels go over here. On the floor."