2.17.2008

I Blame The Irish In Him...

The other night we were playing a grueling and challenging game of Chutes and Ladders. I remember playing this game in college... it was pretty much the same playing it with my kids, only they had to chug lemonade instead of Keystone. I am trying to instill life lessons here.

Anyway, at one point Carl landed on the one coveted square. You know the one I am talking about... it is the one that takes you from square 12 all the way up to square 84, bypassing all of those tedious squares in between. This is the money square. This square not only allows you to skip over all other players, but it also gives you the hope that this forsaken game may possibly end in the next hour or so.

As Carl was doing his happy Chutes and Ladders dance, our son Aaron nonchalantly said:

"Lucky Bastard."

Now, this shocked my husband and I completely. I mean, I may say shit or crap, but I never use the word Bastard. I have no idea where this came from.

It was obvious that Aaron did not realize that he said a curse word and looked like a deer in headlights when he started getting the police interrogation from us. "Where did you hear that word?" "Were you watching Grammy and Papa's home videos?" and even "Tell us now and you may be able to leave your room by the time you are 35!"

He gave us some lame excuse about a video game but I know the truth... it is his Irish starting to come out.

Eventually he will grow a beer belly and start saying things like "Move your arse" and "A woman told me that a woman told her that she saw a woman who saw a woman who made ale of potatoes."

I know this because I have seen it happen. Just the other night my cousin Steve called... by the end of the conversation both of us were talking with an Irish brogue and saying "lucky bastard" at least 10 times. It is a lot more fun to say it with an Irish accent... try it.

Rumor has it that my own father used to be an even-keeled young man as well until the Irish took hold of him. My dad's toasts always start with "May you be..." and end with "You lucky bastard!" All with an Irish accent of course. He also has the Irish ability of telling a man to go to hell so that he looks forward to making the trip. Ahh, me da...

I can't really punish Aaron for being Green can I? I didn't think so... he understands the heritage, just today I asked him for a cup of scaldy and he knew I wanted hot tea. That right there is a fine young lad in the making.

God Bless the Irish... the lucky Bastards.

5 comments:

MichaelTAdams said...

I agree you can't punish the boy for allowing his heritage to beem forth, especially when it's a heritage as wildly drunken as the Irish. I've got a we smidge meself and it comes out all on it's own accord, but once you mix it with the Pole it's kinda like not remembering why your supposed to be drinking.

Anonymous said...

Cris,
Cousin Steve shared this story with us after he had talked to you...all the Irish around the table loved it! And what a fine gathering it was! We surprised Aunt Rose for her birthday! She being just a wee thing of 63 yrs. this coming week. And don't you be thinkin' I won't send you any pictures. I'll be sendin' a few pictures of the clan as soon as the police and firemen are finished interviewing the survivors. It was a grand time!
Love,
Aunt Barbara

Heather said...

Too Funny! I can totally relate. First as an irish gal meself, second as the Mom of a son who showed his roots after I took him fishing once, and apparently I referred to the fish I was trying to reel in as a stupid bastard. A few weeks after the fishing excursion I overheard him calling his brother a bastard. He claimed he didn't know it was a bad word. But he wasn't foolin' no one. I didn't just fall off the potato wagon meself.

A Mom Two Boys said...

I'd pay good money for my son (who's almost 3) to say bastard instead of his tried and true "fudk". Is that the German in him? :0)

Jud said...

You can only punish him if he starts to sing Orange songs, and forsakes his Green-ness.