Apparently my kids have learned a new word. Apparently. It trails every other sentence out of their mouths:
"I'm going to be Scooby Doo for Halloween, apparently."
"I had a corndog and yogurt for lunch, apparently."
It could be worse. In fact, on other occasions, my kids' conversations leave me red-faced and stifling a smirk in the corner. Sometimes I'm belly laughing, tears flooding my cheeks and my voice fluttering an octave higher than usual.
My unsuspecting family lives a state away. We see each other relatively often, all things considered, but my theatrical son, Cade, the king of questions, pounces on each opportunity to ask fresh questions to rookies.
My parents just visited us for a short weekend getaway. Both relish their mid-sixties, walk every day, and remain relatively healthy.
He suckered them in with the innocent first question, "Is it relaxing being a grandpa?"
"Yes, yes it is."
"Why?"
"Because I can take a nap whenever I want to."
"Do you Rest In Peace?"
(Burst of laughter)
"If there's an explosion, do you not hear it?"
"Why, because we're so old?"
"Old people can't hear stuff. Do you just sit in a rocking chair sewing all the time?"
"I don't even know how to sew like that."
"If there's a zombie apocalypse, will they get you first because you can't run?"
"I guess so."
"Why don't you guys kiss that much? I don't even get it. You should kiss more."
"Maybe we do kiss. We just kiss when you're not looking."
"Like when you're in the bathroom or the bedroom, apparently. Or in bed, apparently.
What is your greatest wish?"
"I guess to not be so old."
"Apparently."
(I guarantee that this is not the last Cade conversation you'll see here. They veer in wild, surprising directions and always leave me smiling...)