My voice is pretty loud

The Wisdom of Children in the New Yorker:

I. A Conversation at the Grownup Table, as Imagined at the Kids’ Table
MOM: Pass the wine, please. I want to become crazy.
DAD: O.K.
GRANDMOTHER: Did you see the politics? It made me angry.
DAD: Me, too. When it was over, I had sex.
UNCLE: I’m having sex right now.
DAD: We all are.

I remember the frustrating cross-over period where you were big enough for the adult table, but you had your expectations shattered because everything they talked about was so boring. All I wanted to talk about was how the broccoli were actually tiny trees and there were even tinier people in the tiny trees and if you looked back and forth at the tiny trees really quickly you could catch the tiny people swinging off the tiny branches. But only if you caught them by suprise. Look! Look! Look!

And suddenly you’re back on the kids’ table. And you haven’t even had a chance to explain about the sound milk makes when it goes backwards down the straw.

Permalink Posted in Mwah on Friday March 23, 2007.