More Chronicles of Sam

A couple of new gems from my constant source of entertainment and blogfodder . . .

Sam and Jillian were happily playing in a large cardboard box laid on its side, crawling in and out. At one point, Sam was about to crawl back in alone, and, being the grandmother who encourages imagination and pretend play, I said "Sam, is that your Batcave?" He looked at me with the kind of disdain only a precocious preschooler and a sullen teenager can muster, and said "It's not a CAVE, it's a BOX!" Properly scolded, I just chuckled to myself. He continued making his way inside the box, closed the flaps, and I heard a very small voice say, to himself, not to me, "Yeah . . . it's a CAVE . . . it's a BATcave . . ."

Recently we had a few friends over for dinner, and Mike and Lindsay and the kids were there as well. A few of us were sitting out on the deck enjoying the early summer evening, and one of the guys was smoking a cigar. He's not a smoker, but enjoys a cigar now and then, as do several of our friends. Sam came wandering outside and walked over to me and said quietly "I smell smoke." I told him that our friend was smoking a cigar. He looked at me and said "That's not good . . ." He crawled up in my lap and sat there regarding our friend for a few minutes, and then said, very solemnly, "Smoking is not good for you, remember?" I struggled mightily to suppress my laughter (which happens often when Sam is around) as I knew he was clearly passing on wisdom handed down by his mother. Our friend sheepishly put away the cigar, and as soon as Sam went in the house, we all dissolved in laughter.

I can't wait to hear the kind of things he is going to blurt out in a few years. Out of the mouths of babes . . .