We were all standing in Aunt P’s kitchen laughing and telling humorous tales when the boy added, “Oh yeah, I remember this one time we were at King’s island and it looked like the doll wet her pants…” I looked at him and said, “Bay that’s not funny”. “But I mean she hadn’t wet her pants, only she got off a ride that had a wet seat so she looked like she had wet her pants”. “I don’t remember that” I replied. “No, seriously this happened…” He tried again. “Bay, Nah, I don’t remember that happening” I repeated. “But I distinctly remember this happening” He argued, only this time his sister entered the room and categorically denied his memory. “But I remember that it did. You looked like you wet your pants!” He said emphatically. His aunt P, without looking directly at him said, “Now that’s enough. You’re starting to come across as being mean!”
I turned to look into my son’s eyes and if there had been lasers attached, I would have been disintegrated on the spot. Instead, I watched as a small stream of (invisible) smoke rolled off his head as he turned and exited the room; clearly upset at not being believed. I followed after him and said, “What?” “You never believe me. EVER. No one ever does!” “Bay, first of all, I said I didn’t remember that. Secondly, your sister would never admit to that and third, how was telling that story humorous? All you were succeeding in doing was embarrassing your sister?” “That’s not the point!” He argued. “But that is the point. Why tell a story you know will not be received well?” “You just don’t get it, mom! Regardless the story, you should have believed me.” He argued.
As circumstances go, the boy stayed with his grandmother while the doll her dad and I drove home separately. On the drive home, I began rehashing his story and remembered a time at the amusement park when the skies opened up and we were caught in a deluge of rain. Once the rain subsided, we returned to enjoying the rides at the park. He may indeed have had a valid memory, just one of the million memories we had already forgotten. When he returned home Tuesday I said to him, “Bay, I’ve been remembering one of our trips to Kings Island when we were caught in a rain storm….” “So you believe me now?” He interrupted. “It’s not a case of believing or not. I’d forgotten the rain storm completely so, you may have had a valid memory of that day. But, mentioning that your sister wet her pants did nothing but embarrass her. There was no humor behind that story, only you coming across as a mean older brother. Do you understand what I’m saying?” Looking pointedly at me he replied, “But I was right.” Shaking my head at him I said, “Your memory of the day may be clearer than ours, but that doesn’t make you right. It makes you a mean older brother to bring it up. Now if you had said that you looked like you had wet your pants…” I tried. “But I didn’t, she did” He replied.
Seeing as I was no closer to resolving this than I was on Sunday, I dropped the subject. Living with such a literal person at times can be a pain.