Lee Pitts: It’s the Pitts 6-11-12
On the first day of my nephew’s annual summer visit I decked him out in his jeans and boots, and put him up on my horse, Gentleman. We had to bring in a cow to send to the auction. “What do you want for your birthday?” I asked as we road along. “Do you want money or a toy?”
“I want a stuffed animal,” replied Scott.
“Wouldn’t you really rather have some money?”
Scott replied, “Old people sleep with money, kids sleep with teddy bears.”
Did I mention that Scott is a pretty bright child?
Against the wishes of his parents, I am trying to make a cowboy out of Scott. I asked, “What do you want to be when you grow up?”
“I want to be 12,” answered Scott.
Kids worry a lot about how old they are. In that respect they are like women, always fudging when asked about their age. Kids exaggerate on the upside and women on the downside. Ask a 3-year-old how old he is and he will hold up four fingers. Ask a woman how old she is and she’ll hold up five fingers, and then slap you with them.
As we struggled up a steep hill Scott asked how old Gentleman was.
“He’s eleven,” I replied.
“Will I have to work this hard when I am 11?”
“You will if you don’t have any money.”
After much effort we finally got the cow in the chute. I opened her mouth and explained. “This cow is very old. She’s about 10-years-old. She is losing her teeth and will not be able to eat.”
Scott got a scared look on his face, wiggled one of his loose baby teeth and asked, “Will I be able to eat when I am 10?”
“Only if you have money,” I replied.
Scott was deep in thought. “How old is Studly the ram?”
“Studly is 8-years-old.”
“Will I have 30 girl friends like he has when I am eight?”
“You will if you have money,” I answered, trying to drive home my point.
“Uncle Lee,” said Scott, “maybe you just better give me money for my birthday. I’m not getting any younger, you know.”
“Seven isn’t all that old Scott. It is different with animals,” I tried to explain. “A cow at 10 years is the same as a human at 70. A dog at two is really 14. A dog only lives one seventh as long as a human so you have to multiply their age by seven. You have to convert everything to dog years.”
“How old is Aussie, the dog, then?”
“She’s only five.”
“I didn’t think a dog could get that stupid in just five years,” said my observant nephew. Then he dropped the bombshell I never saw coming. “How old is my mother?” he asked.
Now it was time for a much more thorough, well thought out and delicate explanation. I stumbled and stuttered and said, “Scott, it’s a well known fact, if not a biological one, that girls age slower than men. A women, you see, never lives past the age of 39. But when she is 39 she could actually be the same age as a man might be at 60.”
Scott digested all of this information, got a pensive look on his face and then deduced, “With women it’s sort of like dog years.”
Did I mention how smart my nephew is?
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