Little boy logic

Easter dinner for us consisted of two grandparents, an uncle, his girlfriend, her 8-year old, my two little people and me. It makes for a loud table at the grandparent's house -- one ripe with possibility for good blog fodder.

Logan was ansty. Being tired + being three + holiday excitment + a few handfuls of jelly beans will do that to a boy. Some tried to cajole him. I gave him the look followed by a stern "Knock it off." He did, yet he still didn't feel he needed to eat at the moment.

Grandma tried a new tactic that ended in, "you're sitting in such an important seat! You're at the head of the table just like Papa. See him there, at the other end and you are at this end."

Logan is new to the jargon. He didn't quite understand "head of the table." The girlfriend and the grandma tried to explain it to him. He nodded as they talked and it began to make sense for him. They thought they were in the clear.

"But this is the front of the table," he said as he turned in his seat and pointed to the front door. "See, there is the front of the house so this is the front of the table. That's the back of the house so Papa is at the back of the table."

We all nodded, yeah, ok, you are on the end of the table that is to the front of the house. Papa can literally turn half way around and touch the back door. We get it. Front of table. Back of table.

Logan thought a minute more. That look came over him. The one that says we're all in trouble because the wheels have been turning and he's sleuthed something up.

"So if I'm at the front and this is the head of the table, does that mean Papa is sitting at the butt?"

Just a note to you innocent bystanders, when this sort of things happens at your table resist. Just. Resist. The. Urge. To. Laugh. God help you, just do it. If you laugh, the joke goes on and on and on and on and on and on as the 3-year old boy in your midst elects to repeat it over and over and over.

The adults in us started to return to our senses. If we didn't react he'd not do it. At this point it was all about the laugh.

He said it again. No one flinched. Even the 8 year old sat stoicly, carefully warned by her mother not to even grin. Logan looked from face to face for the tell-tale signs of amusement. Not one of us made eye contact. We ignored him and the joke.

He humpfed. He crossed his arms. "Hey! Did you hear me? Where is the all the laughing?!"

He got another one of those looks from me. He sat down with a simple, "No fair!" Is it any wonder why the toddler girl uses this as her favorite phrase?