From the mouths of babes

My six-year-old son Colin has this friend who, for reasons that will become obvious, I will call Jack.

See, "Friend" would be an overstatement. Jack has a massive man-crush on Colin, hugs him, follows him around, hangs on his every word, generally moons over him. This has been going on since Pre-K and they are now in First Grade. Colin was at first puzzled, then annoyed by this attention. I keep trying to point out that Jack is a nice kid and Colin should put up with him since we all need all the friends we can get in life.

So at lunch today, Colin comes out with this:

"Jack is an idiot."

No, Colin, I say, Jack is a nice little boy.

"Jack is an idiot," Colin insists. "Jack is the king of idiots. If there was one idiot in the world, it would be Jack."

By which point, of course, I am struggling to keep a straight face.

Be nice, I say.

"When I tell Jack he's not my friend, he laughs - like this," says Colin, making donkey sounds.

I am laughing too hard to respond, causing people in the restaurant to turn and look at me.

"I learned in French that they have a special fancy word for idiot," Colin says. "It's Jack."

By which point I was forced to clear the tears from my eye.