Little Pitchers part 2

Little Pitchers Part 1

But it’s the One-Eighth-Pints you really need to keep an eye on. They adore learning new things, and even more adore displaying what they’ve learned. I still have scars from the day I taught some young campers what “hypocrite” means. They heard me mention it in passing as something not to be, and so eager were they for moral instruction that they insisted on learning what it meant. Then the enthusiastic young scholars, bent on expanding their vocabulary, had me review its pronunciation with them. Following which they used it. Liberally. Mostly to refer to me (“Oh Bad4? You mean the hypocrite counselor?”) or to hail me (“Hey Hypocrite! Come look at us play!”).One particularly exuberant afternoon they came dancing down the walk singing “Hy-po-crite, hy-po-crite.” Somehow, I got full tips anyway. (Is it just me, or do other people wind up in these situations too?)

Anyway, that’s how I learned to be careful about what I say in front of Eighth-Pints. Parents of Eighth-Pints are advised to check behind doors before whispering to each other about sensitive information. You may be prepared for the kid to whisper to a friend that her sister is dating, but don’t forget—these kids have imaginations, and not all can differentiate between real facts and the ones they conclude with after a long chain of daydreaming. Or better yet, nightdreaming. Parents who forget this are bound for a rude awakening, hypocrite style.

A friend’s parents didn’t check behind the door the night their oldest daughter officially hit the market. They were understandably excited, and probably chattered about it for a good part of the night. Fancy that – someone might want to marry their daughter! The very same one who’d made charcoal instead of steamed broccoli last week, but they wouldn’t tell him that until afterwards, and yes, the same daughter who still slept with a teddy bear and nightlight, but there would be no reason to mention that

Well, Mrs. Parent went to pick up Eighth-Pint from school the next day and met Mrs. Teacher, wreathed in joyful smiles. “I hadn’t heard, but that’s so nice, mazal tov!” said Mrs. Teacher.

“Thank you,” said Mrs. Parent automatically, and then added, “Um, what for?”

“On Full-Pint’s engagement! Eighth Pint told us all today after davening. Who’s the lucky man?”

Faster than a speeding bullet or an erroneous OnlySimchas posting is the misinformation of an excited Eighth-Pint. Parents and Full-Pints beware.


17 thoughts on “Little Pitchers part 2

  1. Makes you believe that they might have been on to something in the bad old days when they said that “children should be seen, not heard.” And to think we encourage them to talk early.

  2. 1/8th pints are so cute… but I always take what they say with a grain of salt.

    but seriously, what eighth pint said is probably that “my sister is going to get married” which the teacher then asked “so is she engaged? to which eighth pint, trusting her teacher to know the word, enthusuasticaly nodded and said “uhuh. Mommy said in (year, etc.)”

    they’re addorable and precious. 1/8 pints always brighten up your day or make you laugh. eighth pint’s joke

  3. Hehe…no Eighth-Pints in my house, praise G-d. No Half-Pints or any other size pints either, for that matter. The only other Pint besides me is the other Full-Pint and we’re both out of the house anyway (not to mention, the other Full-Pint is married and minds her own business).

  4. Heheheh. I love little kids and thier active imaginations. Though when they’re like 8 or 9, they used to ask me, “Why aren’t you married”? It’s kind of insulting, in a endearing way. They used to get so annoyed, like it was my duty to get married right away so they can go to my wedding and have fun. To them, I’ve found, it’s teenager/high school student/seminary girl, and then mommy. No in between. Ah, eighth-pints. So politically incorrect.

  5. My young neighbors thought I was a senior kallah, thanks to a little eighth pint. It was funny, in a weird way. I was lucky it didn’t spread to far. Kids have very interesting imaginations and misconceptions. She didn’t realize that in order to be a kallah, you needed a chosson. She wanted me to be a kallah, so she said I was one. Little kids…what they can come up with!

  6. I take Bad4’s post with a grain of salt. Smells like something good is brewing here … I just get that sense from the last few posts. Hatzlachah!

  7. Grain of salt? I’m insulted. And here I spend hours culling the planet for the most outrageous tales for your benefit. 😉

    But really, CG. You have precipitated a stream of panicked emails. OK – just an IM and a buttonholing. For anyone worried, I’m still here and only distracted by schoolwork for the forseeable future.

  8. Happy! 1 – I can’t handle getting engaged at this point. Too much happening. I know it’s supposed to supercede college, but I’ve got mixed up priorities. 2 – you wouldn’t want this to become an engaged blog – eugh – shudder – gag.

  9. My neice once got up in her playgroup class and announced “does anyone have a shidduch for my aunts?”
    her classmates offered their brothers, uncles and fathers…

    They all decided that the morah’s baby was too young…

  10. Sorry, Bad4; I just couldn’t resist. I wouldn’t either want all that attention. Everyone gets it; it’s almost like a hazing ritual for all those leaving the bachelors’/maidens’ club.

  11. Shudder – yes. If you do something slightly untoward people are accusing you of being on the brink of engagement. Probably worth a post.

  12. Pingback: Little Pitchers part 1 | Bad for Shidduchim

  13. Pingback: Friday Repost: Pitchers Have Ears | Bad for Shidduchim

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