It all started yesterday morning when I was making little Jimmy's daily milkshake. It's a blend of fruit, soy milk, and some vitamins he can't swallow. Well, to entice Jimmy, I usually get out my handy little Black and Decker "Gizmo" (as it's called) to 'whip it good.' I discreetly jokingly commented on this little play on words to my husband, Jim. He, of course, not picking up my discreetness, began belting out the motivational 80's Devo hit whilst lamely spinning around the kitchen and clapping his hands. . so much for subtle. I mean, really, you have to be careful of EVERYthing you say around kids his age because it WILL come back to haunt you when you least expect it. And it's not uncommon for your words to come back to you in a sort of twisted and mutated form that's much more evil and trashy sounding even than when it first left your mouth.
One morning recently, while driving Jimmy to pre-k, I asked him about the rules for the day (a little routine we practice everyday to remind Jimmy to behave). He answered me initially verbatim word for word as I expected - almost in a sing-songy voice: "Obey the teacher, and keep your hands and your feet to yourself. . ." and then he continued, "and don't call anyone a big eyebrow, or a big nose, or a big box, or a big sign, or a big truck, or a big gas tank, or a big door, or a big window. You just call people their name."
"Ya, that's right." I agreed, somewhat dumbfounded as to where this whole avalanche of thoughts came from. I'd assume at some point he's gotten in trouble at school and his teacher has asked him to not call anyone "a big gas tank" per say.
So this morning, I was pleased to be up and functioning surprisingly before Jimmy. He stumbled out of his room groggily rubbing his eyes. As he climbed up to his chair at the counter, I told him his waffles were ready and that I was just making his milk shake, to which he replied classically: "Whip it good."