Jillian Domenici reports on an incident this morning that shows one parenting advantage of raising a kid with a decided Boston accent:
Scene: Bebe, age 3, walking around the house following me as I clean. She has her child-size screwdriver with her. She’s “fixing” things. (This is debatable.) the screwdriver is, in fact, metal.
Typically she stops at door jambs to fix them.
Today she went for the one outlet in the kitchen that she can reach and that we do not have childproof caps on.
Me: “No no no no! You can’t do that! You can’t fix that!” (Pretty loudly, enough to make her jump).”
Bebe: jumps. “Why?!?!”
Me: “You will get shocked.”
Her: steps back, eyes wide: “There’s shahks in there?!?!?”
Me: (not yet understanding how she translated it) “Yes. There are shocks in there. You will get hurt.”
Her: “The Shahks will bite me?” (She continues to back away slowly.)
Me: (realization dawning but I can’t help myself) “Yes. Don’t touch the outlets.”
Twenty minutes later and even though I have brought up electricity and shocks vs sharks she thinks we have sharks living in our walls.
And, yes, don't worry, Domenici is now looking for a child-proof cap to put in that socket.