Our niece the fan of Captain America and Thor started first grade last month. Her mother was adamant that she go to a private girls’ school run by nuns, much like the ones we attended. Good luck to them because last time we checked, the kid thought Jesus was Santa’s assistant.*
So the child comes home after the first day of school and the perpetually guilty mom (because she has a career that precludes her spending every minute of every day micro-managing her child’s life) asks, “How was school?”
“It’s So Awesome!” the child shrieks as she bounces off to get a snack.
“Awesome?” our sister says. “Did she just say awesome?”
Thought balloon: Awesome-awesome, kurutin kita diyan. “We hardly ever say awesome,” we point out, “And certainly not in relation to school. She must take after her father.”
“I don’t say awesome,” her father protests.
She can’t have picked it up from her yaya, who is old and quite dour. We blame the Disney Channel.
* * * * *
Our friend’s son notices a bump on his arm.
“What is this?” he asks his mother.
“It’s a mosquito bite,” she replies.
“A mosquito bite?” he says worriedly.
“Don’t worry,” our friend tells him, “I’m sure it’s nothing.”
Tears form in the child’s eyes. “Mommy, why do I have a mosquito bite?” he sobs. “Are we poor?”
Going by his definition of poverty, we’re destitute. Mosquitoes love us. In a garden party, we’re the one who gets the halo of mosquitoes. (It has something to do with bananas, we were told.)
* * * * *
Our niece’s report on Genesis: “On the sixth day he made man, and then he arrested him!”
That one we’re pretty sure came from Batman.