Early warning system

My kid cannot keep a secret. I don’t think he even tries. Despite being an exceptionally intelligent child, I’m not sure he grasps the idea of confidence. To him, secrecy means you tell somebody everything you know, but do so in a whisper. With that in mind, if something is happening–secret or not–there is a pretty good chance my boy will tell you about it. This is why I stopped wearing fashion wigs around the house.

I had been asleep for a little more than two hours this morning when the kid burst into my room. In a calm, matter-of-fact voice, he said, “Daddy, Mommy is throwing up.”

In recent weeks and for reasons that have already been established, news of my wife being nauseous is akin to news that she is currently breathing. So, needless to say, on a couple hours of sleep I was none-too-impressed with the announcement. I might have said, “So?”

The boy briefly left my bedroom and stood at the top of the stairs. He listened and then ran back in the room as if Darth Vader were hanging out at the front door (currently the scariest of all possibilities).

“Daddy, Mommy is really throwing up,” he said.

By this time, the noise had carried up the stairs and I heard it myself.

Someday I wish my child would run into my room and say, “Daddy, Mommy just bought you a porterhouse steak and she wants you to buy a motorcycle!”