I'm linking up with Mama Kat for her writer's workshop.
The prompt is: retell a conversation that made you laugh.
Don't Call Me Dummie
“Geez, I hope she’s alright,” I said.
Earlier, I was talking on the sidewalk with a neighbor mom. Her little daughter had run across the street to get to her mom. She had tripped in the street and then gone into a seizure. Everyone was shaken by the event, but everyone ended up being ok. The little girl went with her mom in an ambulance to the hospital to be checked out. After the fire department, EMT workers, and police had left, we were still talking about the event.
“Dummie? Yeah, she runs and falls all the time,” my son said.
“What did you call her?” I asked.
“Dummie!” My son exclaimed.
“Surely, her name is not Dummie. Why do you think her name is Dummie?” I asked. I was part exasperated that my son could unknowingly be so rude, but I was also trying not to laugh.
“That’s what her brother calls her!” My son explained. (My son usually shouts everything.)
I laughed. “Well, that may be what her brother calls her, but I’m sure that’s not her name.”
“It is her name! Darren calls her Dummie!” My son was getting frustrated with me, but I couldn’t stop laughing.
“Parker,” I said, “Brothers call their sister’s names. Dummie is not a nice word for someone. Even if that is what Darren calls her, you should not call her Dummie!”
The next day, Darren came over to play. He explained that his sister was alright. She would be monitored for the seizure. It could have been a one-time occurrence, but we wouldn’t know yet.
I said, “Hey, Darren, by the way, what is your sister’s name?”
“Demi,” Darren said.
I just laughed and laughed.
“Why are you laughing?” Darren asked.
“Oh, nothing, we just thought her name was something different.” I tried to calm my laughing. “Demi is a pretty name.”
My son, Parker, who has the social grace of, well, a five year old, shouted, “We thought her name was Dummie!”
And we all laughed and laughed, but Darren did not.
And now my son is too.