I was in line in the hardware store a few days ago. On the counter, as part of a point of purchase display, there were these small brass hammers in a plastic bin. The base of the hammers opened up to reveal a screwdriver. The base of the screwdriver opened to reveal a smaller screwdriver.
As the clerk was ringing up my purchases, a man with a child got in line behind me. The man looked to be about my age … maybe younger, and the child was about 4. Old enough to walk and talk, but still enamored with everything in site. His eyes and fingers found the display of hammer/screwdrivers. He picked one up.
“What’s this?” he asked the man that was obviously his father.
“A hammer.” Dad said.
“What’s it for?” Asked the child.
“I don’t know.” the man replied dismissively.
So pardon me for being a little direct, but what the fuck was that guy’s problem? Yes, having children ask about every little thing can be a royal pain, but it’s part of being a parent. Having an incredibly inquisitive kid of my own is terribly wearying—he asks about everything … and I do mean everything. My son’s 12, so he asks some pretty complicated questions. There are times when I am tired of answering them, and I tell him so.
But not ‘I don’t know.’ That kind of dismissive answer was showing the kid that his father didn’t really care about the nature of his child. He was obviously worn out by his experience in the hardware store, but chose to take a cop out for an answer, instead of telling the truth.
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