What DO You Know, Pa?

Brendan and I were discussing his trip to Chucky Cheese Pizza last Sunday. He had a wonderful time at his little buddy's birthday party and wanted to tell me all about it.

"I didn't eat much, Pa. I was too busy playing all the games! I had six trillion tickets and all I got was a little red ball?"

"Six trillion, huh? That's a lot of tickets, bud."

"I know, Pa. I worked hard to win them."

"Did Mommy carry them for you?"

"Yes, Pa. I needed Mommy to hold them so I could play!"

"Glad you had fun, buddy."

"Yeah, me too, Pa! Pa? What makes those games work like that?"

"I don't know, bud. I've never been there."

"You've never been to ChuckyCheese?"

"Nope."

"Gosh, Pa. Mama didn't have your birthday there?"

"Nope."

"I guess you're too old for that, huh Pa?"

"Too old for what?"

"Birthday parties."

"I guess so, buddy. When you're my age, they're not as fun as they used to be."

"You are pretty old, Pa."

"Watch it, sucker."

Brendan laughed and climbed on to my lap to eat a hot dog. As he ate, he asked why his hot dog was 'square.'

"I don't know, buddy."

"Pa, what do you know?"

"Not much, I guess."

"I guess not."

I could have explained to him that Oscar Mayer packs them so tight they come out square looking, but where's the fun in that? Far better to receive a pitying look from a four-year-old who just can't understand how you can take care of yourself at such an advanced age as 45.

God, I love that little boy.