As I've been laboriously painting my room, my el crappo-touch-it-and-it-stops CD clock/radio has been my main companion. (Other companions include various cats—hairs from whom are forever embedded in the new paint job.)
But I quickly tire of my music collection, so I turned to Leslie's CDs of This American Life. I adore this radio program. I often orient my Sunday mornings around listening to the show. Personal essays are probably my favorite genre, so TAL naturally appeals to me.
Kid Logic was the theme of one of the shows to which I listened. With a theme like that, it could only be good. I mean, one could fill dozens of shows with anecdotes of children's logic. Oh, wait; Art Linkletter basically did in the showKids Say the Darndest Things. (Did anyone else used to watch the fuzzy reruns on channel 55?) With Ira Glass involved, though, there would be substance and no kids hamming it up at their parents' urging.
I laughed, I cried, I painted while listening to the stories. My inclination to be a mother surged. It was all I could do not to break for the turkey baster. Children are just so compelling in their brutal honesty, wonder and understanding—or process of understanding—of the world. Sometimes it's heart-rending. Sometimes it's hilarious.
The logic of my almost three-year old cousin Julia amused me when I was in Oregon. While riding in the car, her mother gently asked her to stop sucking on her dirty socks. "But, mama, I'm washing them!" she countered. When her mom explained the reason for house-hunting—so they'd have room for more babies—Julia solemnly suggested her parents could just give her baby brother back.
If I have kids, I may get in trouble for neglect; the authorities will say I spend way too much time blogging about every damn cute thing my kids say or do.