A deluge opened up on us here just as we sat down for dinner tonight. During the meal, my 7-year-old fell into a state of sheer grumpiness, the kind to rival the darkest storm clouds and make me cringe as I anticipate the soon-to-arrive preteen years. RegularDad distracted her from her grumpies with a game of chess, and promised our 5-year-old a game as well, after her sister played. I told my 5-year-old sternly that she could watch the game only if she remained quiet and allowed the players to concentrate. She agreed and within five minutes of play, as she stared idly out the window at the sheets of rain coming down, she absently began to sing:
5-year-old (REPEATEDLY): It’s raining, it’s pouring, the old man is snoring…. It’s raining, it’s pouring, the old man is snoring…. It’s raining, it’s pouring, the old man is snoring—
7-year-old (exasperated, and impatiently waiting for RegularDad to make his next move): The old man isn’t really snoring, you know. Dad’s the old man. The old man is TRYING to concentrate.
Ouch. Poor dad. He’s all washed up for sure! (pun not intended but it worked huh?)
I haven’t played chess in over 20 years. Too many distractions.
Now that is just Priceless. From the mouths of babes.
Yep, yep, and yep.