Coloring with Henry.
January 30, 2007Scene: the kitchen. Henry and I are coloring in his and my new favorite book, Scribbles. I had a book like this when I was little, and I think it was called the Anti-Coloring Book, or the Counter-Culture Coloring Book, or the Hippie Love Down With the Man Groove-Tastic Coloring Experience. I loved it so. Anyway! Henry’s drawing on a page that depicts a zoo. You’re supposed to draw the zoo animals. Only Henry’s not drawing an animal because he plays by no one’s rules. No, he’s drawing a giant cockroach. He pronounces it “cock-a-roach,” because he’s the reincarnation of Jimmy Durante.
“The cockaroach is zapping all the people with his mystic light force,” he says, drawing purple lines emanating from the bug to each hapless zoo-goer. Continuing to draw, he says, “Sometimes instead of cockaroach, for short I say ‘roach.’”
“Sure,” I say. I’m busy coloring the security guard. He’s terribly jaundiced, poor thing.
“Sometimes instead of cockaroach I just say ‘cock,’” he adds.
“Oookay,” I say.
Then he tells me, “The giant cock is taking over the world.”
At that second Scott teleports himself from his office directly to our kitchen, shouts, “That’s my boy!” and then whoosh, back to his office.
Maybe whoosh isn’t the right word. Frrring! I think that’s more like it.
Reader Comments (47)
Glad to hear they're still making them!
Jack has a friend (a girl) who was over at our house the other day. She came downstairs and asked her mother if she could sleep with Jack. Her mother yelped and uttered a strangled but audible "NO!" Whereupon the four-year-old girl muttered angrily, "You never let me sleep with any of my boys."
you f@#&ing cock-a-roaches....
That game sucked
I was bored the other day and started writing a story about a chicken who took over the world. It's entitled "The Wicked Cock."
So I am not thinking about a giant penis taking over the world, instead I am imagining a gigantic rooster trampling all over the city. But, you know, either image works for me. I love your kid.
Those colouring books would make me nervous. I like lines, and borders and all that stuff. I've never actually seen one, but I'll have to check next time I'm out! :)
This is not to say that I've overlooked the significance of Henry's closing comment.
So yes, in Europe, we don't give it a second thought. Since stopping bf it hasn't even occured to me that I should drink less when my son (18 mths) is about. He goes to bed at 7pm, so he doesn't exactly see me at the point of the dodgy balance but he's joined us at a number of dinners where wine (and Scotch) has been consumed. Yes, I do sometimes drink to the point where I wouldn't get behind the wheel of my car. (HELLO, people, don't you have TAXIS out there?) And sometimes even to the point that I dance foolishly and make rude jokes (usually, however, in a bar while my neglected son is sleeping sound under the watchful eye of my non-drinking babysitter whose references I have never checked, but she needed cash and I needed a night out).
Who decided that alcohol was such a dangerous thing that poor little mothers couldn't drink "responsibly?"
Sometimes, alice, your blog reinforces every negative stereotype we europeans hold about americans. But it also reassures me that there are some sane folk out there (they just get silenced on mainstream tv).
Henry's going to grow up to direct some very interesting movies.