My wife has a fireman's calendar given to her, by generous relatives from back East, with courageous, valiant firefighters posing like they were on the cover of a romance novel, oiled skin, bulging biceps and all. Like it would soon be time for Magic Mike.
My son is six years old, although he will tell you he might as well be seven because it's only a couple of months away. When he saw this calendar, he picked it up.
"What's this?" he demanded, loudly.
"It's a calendar."
"But who -" and he tapped the cover with his finger, '- are they?"
"Those would be the firemen."
He quickly leafed through it, turning the pages. After each page, he stopped, eyed it up and down, then eyed me up and down.
"They've been working out," I muttered,.
He went through all twelve months, then quickly shut the calendar with a snap.
"I don't like it," he said.
For a moment, I was taken aback. Since when did a six year old boy have opinions on such things as shirtless calendars?
"It's not safe," he declared, when I asked him about it. "The firemen aren't wearing shirts."
"That's kind of the point," I replied, but he shook his head in disdain.
Walking away, he dropped the calendar to the floor, muttering, "people who fight fires should wear shirts."
Six years old, but with all the conservative values of a seven year old.
No comments:
Post a Comment