Not Like Those Camels

Here’s a story from 2001 when Elder would have been five years old…

We have a small plastic table in our living room stacked with coloring books and colors. Sometimes, at dinner time, we move the books and colors to the floor and use it as the kids’ supper table. So, last night, as I made a trip from the living room into the kitchen, Elder, sitting at the table, asked, “Mom, do you know what camels can do?”

“No,” I answered, returning to the living room. “What?”

“They don’t have to drink water for a long, long, long time.”

“Oh,” I responded absently, my attention riveted on the television as the one half-hour show I try to watch every week returned from a commercial.

Several minutes later, completely engrossed in the latest episode of Friends, I must have missed Elder’s request, because suddenly he hollered, “Mo-oo-oo-om?”

I glanced towards him to find him leaning across the little table, his face completely scrunched with distress. “What?”

“I’m not like those camels,” he told me earnestly. “I need a drink right now!”

I no longer believe in the education of our children.

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