The Downside of Smart Children
It started off innocently enough. I corrected Tom when he tried to put down words like “pils,” “Rome” and “trool,” even giving him a letter or two to help him make his words (he’s only 9, after all, and this was his first game of Scrabble). Then, I ran out of ideas and we needed long words to get into the empty spaces, so I put down with “faxer” (someone who faxes). After that, it was all down hill into “roddy” (someone with a lot of rods), “naped” (the flip of hair across your forehead), “soapic” (very soapy) and, my personal favorite, “oifbath” (good for sores on your skin), all the time fighting to keep a straight face.
However, when I busted Tom for putting down “zin” (“double” in “Tom language”), he started pointing the finger at “trux” (Latin for multiple vehicles), looked it up in our unabridged Webster’s (I’ve got to get rid of that thing…), called his mother to double-check and the whole thing came falling down around my ears. My visions of Tom in his 30s calling me from a party complaining that “glev” wasn’t actually a kind of rock have been dashed.
Still, while I am proud of my son for catching onto to my “creativity,” luckily there are all kinds of other, more subtle lies that I’ve told him that are set to trigger in my retirement years, sure to motivate him to call, even if only to curse my name. : )