Bals nephew is eight. Are all eight year olds this funny?
We were walking back from the river when he puts a hand on my belly.
“So, the baby…” he begins.
“Yes?” I reply.
“What is it going to be?”
“We don’t know. Could be a boy or a girl!” I respond automatically as I have answered this a few times before.
“No, I mean how many parts will it have?” he implores.
I don’t know what to say. Do I tell him it could be one part or two? Does an eight year old count testicles or nipples as parts? Does he include limbs also or are we just talking the distinguishable parts here? Before I can respond, he continues,
“Because I’m 5 parts! I’m Filipino, Chinese, Indian I think, and ummm… I forget what else. So this baby will be Filipino like Uncle Bal and what else? What are you?”
I can’t help but chuckle. I have never been asked this before. “Well, I’m white.” I put simply. Nothing registers on his face. So I try again.
“Caucasian.” Still nothing.
“I’m what your Dad is.” I say hoping this will get us somewhere.
“Oh! My Dad is, ummmm, Sco-, Sco, Sco-something!” he excitedly replies.
“Yes! Scottish. That’s my 4th part!” he remarks. I laugh and he continues,
“Do you know how you can tell there is Scottish blood in me?” he asks in all seriousness.
He stops abruptly and in the middle of the trail, this 8 year old Filipino-Scottish boy born and bred in Canada, breaks out into the Scottish jig!