Wheaton’s Way: Out of the mouths of babes

For a couple of nights last week I just could not sleep.

You know when every time you check the clock and it’s getting closer and closer to dawn, you calculate how many hours of kip you’ll get if you fall asleep ‘from now’? (Which, of course, never happens.)

Then, panic sets in as you hear roosters starting to crow outside and see a bit of light creeping through the blinds. Panic = absolutely no chance of relaxing and getting some shuteye. It turns into a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Unfortunately, this almost always happens when you have something important to do that day. Give a presentation; lead a five-hour meeting; set up countless chairs and tables for an outdoor event … The anticipation is probably what causes the insomnia in the first place.

I (mercifully) didn’t have anything pressing to attend. It was simply one of those random things when the room was too hot, then too cold, then too hot. The bedsheets felt scratchy. The border of the pillowcase was irritating my arm. Was that a mosquito?

A time lapse video of that night would probably have looked like found footage from ‘Paranormal Activity’.

Anyway, at around 4am I gave up the fight and decided to accept being awake.

So, naturally, I reached for my iPhone and started visiting websites, followed by watching countless videos on YouTube – exactly what doctors say you should never do if you are trying to slumber.

I don’t know how I started on the subject, but I was watching some snippets of ‘Kids Say the Darndest Things’ on YouTube, and before I knew it, I was an hour into one hilarious clip after the next.

As I really laughed at some of the words that popped out of these children’s mouths, I wondered if maybe their refreshing honesty should give them an early career in politics. No sugar-coating, just straight talk.

I have two nephews and a niece and – over the years – they’ve expressed their choice opinions, unfettered by social filters.

I remember when my nephew Arjan was really quite young, he asked me why I wasn’t married.

“Oh, I just haven’t found the right man,” I said, ready for some response along the lines of: “Why not? You’re wonderful, Auntie Vicki!”

Instead, his eyes narrowed as he zeroed in on my stomach – which was at his eye height – and proceeded to thoughtfully prod it with his finger, accompanied by, “Maybe you need to lose some weight.”

Charming.

I could have gone down the road of ‘it isn’t all about looks’, but my battered ego couldn’t take a follow-up critique of me also being super-loud.

Unsurprisingly, this child’s debate team won their competition in school many years later.
I also recall when I was the witch for the annual kids’ Halloween party at Little Trotters. It was a really well-organised affair, with lots of sitting space for the audience, and a grotto worthy of a Disney theme park.

I had a cauldron with lights and vapours, jars of interesting and icky objects, and tattered black curtains all around. I always painted my face green for the occasion and wore the costume and hat.

As I emerged from behind the curtains, carrying a mirror in one hand, I pushed my hair back and said, “Oh my goodness – I am so beauuuuuuutiful.”

Instantly a wave of “OH NO YOU’RE NOT! YOU’RE UGLY!!!” nearly knocked me backwards from the crowd of unforgiving youngsters. Made me wonder if the witch in the classic tale of ‘Hansel and Gretel’ wasn’t maybe misunderstood. There she is in the forest, minding her own business, feeling a little self-conscious about her looks so she’s not hitting the clubs, and then these two children show up and start eating her house. Your Honour, I implore you to look at the facts …

Not only are my siblings’ children not shy in coming forward, they would also not be my first choice when picking a crew to rob a bank. I can’t remember exactly what I was trying to talk them into eating or doing, but I know I was trying to be a cool aunt at the time. Rather than going along with it, I got stern looks implying that I should know better, followed by, “Yeah, no. Mum wouldn’t be happy.”

I blinked at their response, incredulous Daffy Duck-style, then crossed them off the list of possible associates for a daring caper. They wouldn’t get involved in the first place, and even if they did – if I convinced them that their mother would be A-OK with my brilliant scheme – they’d probably get on the blower to the local precinct house as soon as humanly possible.

“Yes. We’d like to report our Auntie Vicki for pouring bubble solution into the resort pool. Please throw the book at her.”

Who’s a Scooby-Doo fan (before that ghastly Scrappy-Doo came on the scene)? As I’m taken away in irons: “And I would have gotten away with it, too, if it hadn’t been for you meddling kids … ”

All joking aside, my nephews and niece are very honest, forthright human beings … but I was the complete opposite when I was growing up, to the point that I wonder if we truly are related.

I’d get up to nonsense all the time, and then swear I had nothing to do with it when something inevitably went wrong. The trick is to believe you’re telling the truth. Never let ‘em see ya sweat.

As I looked through those YouTube videos, it was also abundantly clear that children really do pay attention and pick up more from adults than we realise they do. The number of times they revealed family secrets to others at events and (hilariously) embarrassed their parents to death.

When a dad kept holding a big piece of cheese up to his toddler, in a shop, and the child kept pushing it away, protesting, “No! No, that’s gross!”, the father asked, “Why? What does it smell like?”

“Like mommy’s feet!” was the reply, face screwed up in horror.

Brilliant.