Out of the Mouth of My Babe

WASSSSUP!!
This week's blog is short and sweet-like me. My weekly update follows this entry. While going through some old copywriting materials, I came across this story that I wrote in 2006. It's a good one, so I want to share. And yes, it's a true story.

I’m a stand up comedienne. For days before a show, I prepare a set of material that will entertain people for ten minutes at a time. But there is nothing I can write that is as hilarious than the words that come out of my daughter’s mouth at the most awkward times.

The other day, we were about to purchase a few snacks from our local convenient store. As we stood in line, I noticed my six-year-old daughter’s attention was directed at the man behind the counter. There stood an attractive, Middle Eastern man, probably in his early 50’s, wearing a turban. Knowing that my daughter has just finished a lesson in school about different ethnicities, I instantly froze. What was she about to say? It was like I was about to witness an accident, but had no way of telling the man to watch out. I tried to divert my daughter’s attention to pink gum, a candy bar, anything that would stop her from whatever she was about to say…. but then it happened.

I saw my daughters’ little arm rise above her head. With her index finger pointed to her crown, she made a swirling motion as if she was preparing to spin herself around like a top – and then she spoke. Loud and clear, her little voice said “Mommy, does the guy with the funny hat speak French?”

As the folks in line behind us laughed out loud, my face turned red. My lips puckered, my heart sank. Part of me laughed hysterically at the innocence of her question, but my thoughts scrambled for an answer. Within two seconds, I came up with three solutions, as only a mom can do. First, I can tell the truth and say “No,” and this conversation will certainly take a turn for the worse. Next, I can say “Yes” and potentially silence her for at least enough time to pay for our snacks, and make a mad dash to the car, where I can then call my best friend and ask her to explain her heritage, and the reasons why this man, like her father, wears the symbolic turban. Or last, I can make eye contact with the gentleman and hope for an appreciative look from a man who surely has children, a father who would forgive her naive question and allow me off the uncomfortable hook that I am hanging on…I chose the latter.

As I peeled my embarrassed eyes off my sweet girl, I gave the man my best “Oh-I-am-so-embarrassed- kids-say-the-craziest-things” look. The man smiled and winked, as if to forgive me. I smiled and apologized for the uncomfortable encounter. But, from the corner of my eye, I could tell that my daughter was still occupied with the man’s turban. So in my softest voice, I leaned toward my daughter and muttered the words “Yes, he speaks French, now let’s pay for our things, and go home.”

I’d like to tell you that it stopped there, and it should have, but my daughter was still fully focused on the man’s head. Like a volcano about to erupt, I swear I could see the little words in her brain shuffle into a line that would inevitably produce another uncomfortable inquiry. Before she could utter another word, I gave her my keys, and told her to walk to the window and press the button to unlock mommy’s doors. She took the keys, and turned to leave, and I was finally relieved.…Or am I?

As I thanked the understanding man for my change, apologized to him for the third time, and pick up my bag, I turned to my daughter who is about five feet away from me. I motioned her to follow me out, and as we leave the store, her little voice shouts back at the man, “I like your funny hat! Bye!”

My embarrassment is equal to a show-up-naked-at-the-mall dream.

As I look back and give him yet another apology look, he shouts back at her “Thank you, Bonjour.”