George Lucas Would Be Proud

The kids are sitting at the kitchen table eating dinner. As I pop into the other room for a moment, Max yells, “Mom, I’m teaching Ari words she doesn’t know.” I’ll admit – for a second I was concerned about this little vocabulary lesson. Was he going to teach her how to say “stupid baby mommy?” (His preferred choice of curse words. I know. I’m lucky that’s the worst he can come up with.)

Because while Max has been doing incredibly well on fish oil alone for ten days now, he hit a rough patch this afternoon. He was on my computer, playing games at www.spykids.com, and was having trouble. “I keep getting killed,” he wailed to me. When I was unable to move him to the next level in the game, he only became more distraught and agitated. He started spitting and whining and hitting. Then he threw a tennis ball at me and knocked over my modem. It wasn’t his best moment.

So I wasn’t sure how devilish he was feeling when he announced his intention to teach Ari new words. But his lesson went like this:

Max: Ari, say Obi-Wan Kenobi
Ari: Obi-Wan Kenobi
Max: Say Jar Jar Binks
Ari: Jar Jar Binks
Max: Say Luke’s robot hand
Ari: Luke’s robot hand

He wasn’t trying to teach her the worst words he knew…he was teaching her his favorites.