Bidonkulars...? That's what he said before trying to vacuum the words up and safely back into his mouth. Here's how it went:
Getting ready for bed, he innocently asked a valid question.
Son: Mom, should I bring my bi-donk-u-lars on the camping trip?
Mom: Your... bidonkulars? I knowingly asked with a wide grin.
Son: Yeah... No, no, no! Uh... what's the word, Mom?
Son: I know! Binoculars! That's what I meant to say, Mom! You're gonna tell lots of people about this, aren't you? (relieved at first, then frustrated)
Mom: What makes you think that? (smirking)
Son: It was just a "word mix-up," Mom. That's all. This is the kind of stuff you think is funny, and I know you're gonna tell someone. (Expectantly)
Mom: Whom shall I start with? (another wide grin)
Son: (sigh) Well... go ahead and tell Dad... but that's it. No more people! (smiling, while trying to be serious and somewhat wounded)
From somewhere out in the hallway-
Dad: Are you talking about those special glasses that can only see big butts? (In his best commercial announcer voice)
Son: Daaaaad! You guys just want to make fun of me all the time! (giggle, giggle)
Dad and Mom: Well... not all the time. (smiling big and proud)
He's right. I absolutely relish in those moments of missteps - even my own. Just ask my sister... or my husband... or my parents. Come to think of it, my former colleagues and old friends would say the same thing. I can't remember how to scramble an egg, which way the Red River flows, or what I was going to say in any important conversation, but if you misspoke or performed in an embarrassing fashion that caused a burst of laughter in the room - you can bet your last dollar that I'm going to remember. That's something to be really proud of, right? Some people store sport stats or excerpts from crucial political events or even witty lines from Seinfeld in their memory collections. I collect embarrassing stories. But come on... bidonkulars? I can't make that stuff up.
So as old as I feel some days, it's obvious I haven't grown up yet.