We stopped into RadioShack for a second to replenish our stock of blank DVD’s and to investigate cassette to iPod adapters for Pop Pop. We were looking at the toys with disgust, because the toys at our local RadioShack are kinda weird, when my son’s eyes lit up and he grabbed a space robot gun and held it about an inch from his face to inspect it more carefully. I smiled and went about my business, keeping an eye on my little man to see what he would do with the space robot gun.
I purchased my blank CD’s and left a message for my step father about the $19.99 cassette to mini jack adapter they had hanging on the wall, and turned to my son to see what was happening.
“Daddy, can we get this robot?” He said to the people working behind the counter, holding the space robot gun toward me.
“Is that a robot sweetie? Or is it a gun?”
“It’s a gun.”
“Hmmm… I don’t think we’re going to have a gun buddy.”
“Pleeeeaaase?”
“No son, we don’t play with guns.”
“But Daddy, I reaallly reallly want to have it.” He wasn’t in love with the gun or the robot part of the toy so much as wanting something for the sake of making a purchase. I was interested in his response, and his choice of toy, so I lingered and discussed it with him.
“Forr, do you know how your Daddy feels about guns?”
“No.”
“Would you like to know?”
“How?”
“Only chuckleheads have guns.”
My son stared at me blankly. I smiled warmly at him. I could see his mind trying to decide if being a chucklehead, and possibly getting this toy was worth admitting that he wasn’t a chucklehead and definitely not getting anything.
“Daddy?”
“Yes baby?”
“I’m a chucklehead. Can I buy this space robot gun?”
“No sweetheart, you are definitely not a chucklehead.”
“Yes I am Daddy.” He looked outraged at the thought of not being a chucklehead, insulted that I hadn’t noticed it before. “My Mommy calls me a chucklehead all the time.”
At this point we had captivated the entire staff, and the three people shopping at the store. Everyone burst into laughter.
“Son, I am absolutely certain that your mother has never called you a chucklehead.” I rethought this. Now, I know that my son’s Mother would never say a derogatory word to her son. That’s a basic fact. But, we all received the word chucklehead as an indirect gift from my friend Jaime. He has a was of resurrecting vintage expressions and saying them once around me, and then I bring them home and make them a part of the family vernacular. Chucklehead was a gift from Jaime, and Jaime’s gifts have a life of their own. Being a chucklehead isn’t really so bad, I can be a chucklehead, some of my best friends have the potential to be chuckleheads. However, potential, or general characteristics are quite a bit different from being a chucklehead, or living the thoughtless, frightened or foolish life of a head which chuckles like the fat lady in the fun house. And, at it’s root, the expression simply means stupid. So it’s clear that no one has ever called my son a chucklehead.
“Yes she has. She calls me that all the time.” He looked at the ground, I was grinning at him because I knew that he knew that I knew what he was saying wasn’t entirely true. Maybe what he meant was that he’s heard the word before and it really didn’t sound all that bad to him. And then he added, “But you know… she doesn’t mean it in a bad way.”
I got down on one knee and looked my son in the eyes. He has the most beautiful, bright warm brown eyes and I love it when they look into mine. I smiled sweetly, ruffled his hair and explained that there’s no way on God’s green earth that he was a chucklehead, and we don’t need, or want a gun.
“Ok Daddy. Let’s go.”
“Yeah, let’s go.”
“C’mon.”
“Ok.”
3 Comments
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That was too cute. I am chuckling now as i type.
That does not make me a chucklehead does it?
No, I don’t suppose so.
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no. It most certainly does not.
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this reminds me of a story my wife just told me about some friends of her family, starring their 3 year old kid. Essentially they were in a toy store and he had found some toy he was totally enamored with. The mom had that sudden and insanely overwhelming urge to go to the bathroom. So the conversation began “put down the toy, we’ve got to go” “no” ….. until she knelt down and whispered “honey, put the toy down or mommy’s going to have to go poopy on the floor.” he thought for a second and said “ok”, but didn’t move. “well, let’s go” she said, really needing to go. his reply “no i no say “ok” to go i say “ok” for you to poopy on floor!”
that story was followed maybe two weeks later with the story about how she was in home depot with her three kids and the same kid found his way to the bathroom department and proceeded to sit and pee in one of the display toilets. classic.