The Besh Moments In Life

I’m amazed that somehow Besh knows all the Thomas engines/trains/whatever they are–mostly because we have maybe one Thomas book and one DVD which he’s seen a few times.  But he knows them all.  Maybe a bit too well. 

Recently, Sara bought him some cups that have Thomas and friends on them.  Last night, he started pointing them out.

Besh: “See that?  That’s Emily.”

Me: “Really?”

“Yes.  She’s a girl engine.”

“Oh.”

“And that is Percy.  She’s a girl too.”

“Percy’s a girl?  Sounds like a boy name.”

“No, Percy’s a girl.”

“Are you sure about that?  I think Percy is a boy.”

“No!  Percy doesn’t have a penis!”

“Well how do you know Thomas is a boy?”

“Thomas has a penis! See?”

Besh points to some kind of latch that Thomas has on his front grill.

“Oh, I see.  But wait, Percy has it too!”

“Oh, yes!”

“And…wait a minute!  Emily has it too!”

“Ohhhhhhh!”

This could get uncomfortable.

In the weeks leading up to Easter, the mall had its typical Easter Bunny picture set-up in the central court.  And during our weekly (or more often) trip to the mall to ride elevators, Besh for the first year really noticed this display and the bunny in particular.  Especially the first day when he saw a line of kids and one sitting in the bunny’s lap for a photo.

Besh (his eyes turning into saucers): “Is that a bunny?!  I want to sit in the bunny’s lap!”

Me: “Um, let’s go to the other elevator!”

I guess I’m in the minority here, but I find the notion that there’s somebody in a bunny suit sitting in a mall and having kids sit on their lap for photos just a bit weird.   Same thing with Santa.  Not that I wouldn’t give in if confronted with a full-out tantrum or definite interest, but I’m also not above redirection or, if necessary, misdirection.  Turns out the latter was needed as Besh brought up the bunny again when we were home.

Besh: “Next time, when we’re at the mall, I can sit on the bunny’s lap?”

Not sure what exactly to say, I took a swing for the fences.  Didn’t really think Besh would grasp this, but every once in a while he shocks us with what he can grasp so I took a shot.

“Well, Besh, you see, you and Mommy and Daddy are Jewish.  And there are a lot of people in the world who aren’t Jewish, but some who are.  And Jewish people really don’t do the whole bunny thing.”

I could see in his eyes he wasn’t getting it.  Maybe I wasn’t selling it enough.  After all, the bunny has about as little to do with Easter as it does with Passover.  I could call it a Passover Bunny for all he cared.  So I took a second approach, one that I figured would resonate with him since he picked up a good percentage of his mother’s cleanliness genes.

“Actually, Besh, you know the bunny in the mall?”

“Oh yes.”

“Well, he has to sit in the mall all day.  And all the boys and girls who are out playing in the dirt and grass come in and sit on his lap.  So you know what happens?”

“What?”

“The bunny gets dirty.  He’s a very dirty bunny.  And he can’t get up to clean himself, because his job is to sit there and take pictures with all those kids.  So I don’t want you to get dirty, okay?”

“Oh, okay.”

That one stuck.  Problem solved, I thought.  But apparently he was thinking a bit more about it.  Because the next time he went to the mall he made the following request:

“You find me a clean bunny and I can sit on his lap?”