Nature’s vs. nurture’s call
Currently my four-year-old son’s most requested song is “Mongoloid” by Devo, specifically this a capella version. His constant requesting of it can’t be good in the long term, especially since his uncle has Down’s Syndrome. The upside is that I guarantee he is the only preschooler who knows that the condition is chromosomal.
Recently he announced “You know, Dad, everybody poops … except Mommy.” This is curious because neither I nor my wife has ever told him that she is a non-pooper. (Oh, and also it is untrue.) I’ve never seen a reference to immaculately crapless mothers on any kids’ TV show and I can’t imagine this is a point of discussion at school. Are little boys born incapable of believing their mothers could be dirty in the way that their fathers clearly are?
Speaking of ingrained behaviors, the older boy actually leaps for joy — there is no other way to describe the ecstatic dance he does — when he hears the 20th Century Fox fanfare that precedes their movies. You know, the martial drums and horns? This is because this is how Star Wars movies begin and forever the two shall be linked in his mind. This of course is a terrible setup for disappointment before the several hundred Fox flicks that aren’t followed by a yellow text crawl into the distance.