The Wisdom of Youth

I once visited my friends Tim and Elizabeth, who live a couple of hours away, to have dinner in honor of Tim's birthday, as well as that of their younger son Miles. Miles's older brother, Connor, is my godson. I'm not really sure what the godfather role is supposed to entail -- and I'm not in the habit of making offers that can't be refused -- but through the 4 and a half years of his life up to that point, we had built a relationship based mainly on me buying him cool toys for his birthday (I'm always jealous of how much cooler toys are today than they used to be) and us playing together when I'm visiting. That might not be the standard way things are done, but it had works for us so far.

On this particular visit, I was quite tired for some reason. I think it might have had something to do with the pitchers of beer consumed the night before, but I’m not really sure. During one lull in the action, and I found myself lying on the floor with my eyes closed, pondering what would happen if I just fell asleep right there. The world will never know the answer to that riddle, though. Before I could doze off, I felt these little hands on my chest followed by a little person leaning in and little lips smacking on my cheek. I opened my eyes as Connor was standing up and saying, "I gave you a kiss, Uncle Abs." This was clearly an explanation in case I didn't know what had just happened. My heart lurched at the sweetness of the moment.

I started to say, "Thanks, buddy," but I was cut off.

"Because that's how you make love," Connor explained.

"Oh is it?" Uncle Abs asked, grinning a bit and undoubtedly cocking an eyebrow well past his hairline. Apparently my love of funny overrides my appreciation of sweet.

"SHOW love, Connor. That's how you SHOW love," his mother said, somewhat urgently, from the kitchen.

"Because that's how you SHOW love," Connor relayed, in case I hadn't heard it.

I said, "Well, darn, I was hoping to get some tips there."

"That's ENOUGH, Abs," said Connor's mother. She apparently didn't think anything good could come of that conversation.

I couldn’t help but wonder if I should take it as a bad sign that a 4 year-old felt the need to give me pointers. But I listened anyway.