AFRICAN AMERICAN DAD

I’m not sure if Dev is turning five or 25 next week. The kid really thinks he’s grown. He’s also kind of funny and cute. I think I’ll keep him. Here are three things that fly off the top of my head that he’s said over the last three weeks. I’m not sure why they have stuck with me over the other crazy stuff that he says but it did.

“Daddy! Can you close the door, please? I don’t want anyone to smell the dooky in here! I think I’m going to be dookying until midnight!” Nice, kid. Real nice.

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Before bed one night he looks at his mother “I want to give Daddy a kiss first.” I was gloating privately as any Dad would after being chosen over mommy, and awaited my love. Then he walks over to me, hops in my lap, and sets up to give me a kiss on the cheek. As he goes in he can’t help but notice a surprisingly enormous pimple growing out of my face like a second head (hey these things even happen to grown men). “Um,” he cracks a half amused, half appalled smile, “I think I’ll kiss the other cheek, ok?”

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With hands on hips, lowered eyebrows, and minus two top front teeth he told a thick-accented grown who man instructing him on how to pose for his class pictures “You are not speaking properly. Please speak in a normal voice.” (Yes, I know, we have to work on that with tour son. If he were 20 years older he’d be called “intolerant.”)