Ages ago when my son, Little Napoleon, was around 11 years old we needed to make a trip to Jackson, Wyoming. He HATED being in the car for any amount of time and usually, long before we reached our destination, everyone else hated being in the car as well.
A week before we went on the trip I decided to prepare him so he could wrap his mind around the experience and maybe, just maybe he wouldn’t be such a pain in the ass. I told him when we were going, how we were going to go, how long the trip would take and who would be in the car. The whining started immediately. It was too long. It was boring. It would take forty-seventy years to get there. Yeah, I know. Little Napoleon counts differently than everyone else.
Since we were going for a figure skating competition, I tried to entice him with the other figure skaters. I told him how cute they were and how there would be some his age. He decided they probably all acted like his sister and he wanted none of that. I told him there would probably be brothers hanging around the ice arena and if all else failed, he could always fight with them. Not interested.
Then, without even thinking, I said, “You can see the Tetons.”
A sparkle of interest. “What are the Tetons?”
“A bunch of big mountains.” Interest dimming. “They were named after boobs.”
So I told him the story of how the Grand Tetons were named…lonley and horny French trappers and traders who hadn’t seen a woman in years cast their eyes on the majestic mountain range and decided they looked like really big boobs.
On the day of the trip, we all loaded in my mom’s car and took off on the long way to Jackson. Little Napoleon was as much of an angel as he could be, waiting in anticipation for the boob mountains. I really don’t believe he was interested in female parts at that age, but it was more of a ‘what were they thinking’ kind of curiosity.
As we neared Jackson and the Tetons came into view I pointed them out to Little Napoleon. This is a much photographed mountain range that is featured on postcards, calendars, screen savers and just about anything else you can think of. The Tetons are majestic, awe-inspiring, and breath-taking. Little Napoleon was hardly impressed. In fact, he was so disappointed I thought he was going to start crying.
I asked what was the matter and he said, “I don’t like them. They are all sharp and pointy.”
“You don’t like your Tetons sharp and pointy?”
“No. I like mine round and chewy.”
I thought my mom was going to wreck the car. It was such an unexpected and definitive statement from an 11 year old boy, that we were all speechless for pretty much the entire weekend. Now that he’s older, I wonder if he’s changed his mind.