God bless my child for his purity. His heart is so pure, in fact, that he is compelled to tell the truth under all circumstances. (Except when I ask him if he’s washed his hands.) He sees life the way it’s presented to him, and with the eye of an eagle, he is able to spot the most interesting of subjects and inquire about their origins.
Such was the case when we were at the Sherwin Williams store getting sample paints for our house painting project. I held Noble in my arms, so he could participate in the grown up transaction taking place between myself and the employee ringing me up. With his index finger outstretched, and his arm elongated, seemingly beyond human possibility, so as to make perfectly clear what he was pointing at, Noble inquired, “Dad, what is that on that man’s face?”
Part of me blamed the man for having that large mole on his cheek. I mean, come on! The rest of me completely ignored the situation and lovingly put Noble down so he could run around the store. “Where’s your mom? See if you can find her!”
As Gayle was approaching, I casually mentioned to her, “You guys can load up in the car, I’m almost done.”
“That’s ok, we’re fine, we’re just….”
With eyeball urgency, but remaining vocally casual, I reiterated, “Nah, go ahead and pack it up.” I then answered her quizzical look by whispering, “I’ll tell you in the car! Go!” I needed the mole examiner out of that store before he decided he felt like investigating further.
This is right on the heels of Noble’s comment about the woman at the photo studio. I’m really struggling with how to deal with these socially awkward outbursts. Partly because they are honest questions and/or statements. How the hell do you teach social etiquette to a four year old? Is that even possible? Really, though, I have sweat inducing nightmares about being sandwiched at the grocery store checkout line between a one eyed transvestite and an acne ridden dwarf. I think I would have a heart attack from all the honesty pouring forth from my little truth teller.
I think I need to just ride it out. Gayle and I are trying to instill in him a sense of what is socially acceptable, but I see that backfiring sometimes by the possible public outburst, “Dad, is that something I’m not supposed to talk about in public? That giant thing on his face? Does he not want me to talk about that?” The easier solution would be for the entire world to please be comfortable in their skin.
World – you need to be, for there is a truth teller among us; a mirror. A mighty slayer of the onion like layers we shell ourselves in with. They call him Noble. And he wants to know why you have that huge ass mole on your face!