If you want to know the truth about yourself – say how you look, whether or not you’ve been behaving badly lately, if you are a fair person or if you fall to the heavy or slim side of the scale – ask a grade-schooler.
Because unless they’ve already been taught to bluff, kids are the ones who’ll give you the truth. Straight up. No mal-intent and little to no buffering. They simply call things as they see them.
While traipsing Tel Aviv with my 7-year-old and his classmate during yesterday’s evening hours, the subject of Super Heroes arose. After pulling some moves on each other and making appropriate heroic sounds the boys piped down and my son suddenly turned to me.
You can’t be a Super Hero, he said matter-of-fact-like looking me in the eye.
Why’s that? I countered, feeling flattered to have been pulled into their conversation.
Because your boobies are... he tapered off verbally and instead gesticulated somewhere mid-navel section with both hands.
Wait. What is that supposed to mean? I asked, unsure of whether or not I truly wanted to know.
Well the Girl Super Hero Action figures have boobies here, he explained, reverting back to hand gestures this time at an elevated chest level.
Yeah, his friend chimed in.
They tag teamed me. Beautiful.
And of course, I was faced with the reality of gravity and the fact that despite my son’s misguided belief that his mother is a mere twenty-four years old (who on earth told him that?), she’s not. One day he’ll figure out that the real action figures with perky breasts are the true twenty-four-year-olds. Far be it from me to burst THAT bubble prematurely.
But my god was it a hilarious moment.
Except for the tag team part.