How Gauche

Another post commemorating 15 years of twins. This was originally posted 2/20/2012.

On Saturday the wifey took Baby C and went out shopping with her mom, so it was just me and the twins. We went and got our hair cut, then went to the park to play some basketball with my dad, who had wanted to do something with us.

We played for roughly two hours, after which time we were thoroughly exhausted. We decided to go to Dairy Queen to get a blizzard since the only sensible thing to do after good exercise is to ingest enough sugar to induce a diabetic coma.

So there we are in Dairy Queen, eating our blizzards and conversing. At one point, Baby B dropped his spoon on the floor. He picked up and held it out for me to behold, his look clearly asking, “What do I do?”

At 12 years old, the common sense gene still has yet to kick in, much to my dismay. I told him to go to the counter and get another spoon, which he did. On his way back, instead of walking around the booth next to us to get to his seat, he climbed through the booth.

“Son!” I said, exasperated.

“What did he do, go through the booth?” my father inquired.

“Yes,” I answered.

By this time, Baby B was back in his seat and had a spoonful of ice cream. My father, who was seated next to Baby B, looked at him and deadpanned, “How gauche.”

“I don’t know what that means!” Baby B exclaimed.

I told him that he could look it up when we got home, as I always do when they ask me what something means. I always encourage them to find answers themselves as a way to make them more self-reliant. However, I remembered that I had recently installed the dictionary.com app on my phone, so I decided to look it up and read the definition to my son. This is what I read: