Tonight Kiddo asked when she would be taking karate lessons. "Umm, when did you think you were taking karate lessons?" I replied uncertainly. She thought it would be in about 7 years. (How long is seven years mom?) No problem.
Then she got a great idea, we could pretend to have a karate class, and I could be her teacher! I sent her to her daddy, who actually has martial arts knowledge.
First he taught her a stance, then started to show her one very straightforward punch. "Punch. Punch. Punch," they practiced. Babs, who had been wandering around (making herself pretty by applying a liberal coat of chapstick) suddenly got very interested, and yelled "punch" along with Daddy, practicing her punches.
Then they paused the lesson to talk about safety. "The most important thing about karate," he started, only to be interrupted by the very immediate task of needing to stop Babs from using her new punching skills on Kiddo.
"No. That's what I was going to say. We don't punch other people. Babs, can you (meaning are you allowed to) punch Kiddo?" The answer was supposed to be, of course, "No." Instead Babs showed her mighty skills, and punched Kiddo. "NO! Don't hit your sister. Babs, can you punch Kiddo?" As the words escaped his lips, she punched her big sister again.
Ah, the essential difference between can and are you allowed, and the literal mind of a two-year old. Oh yes, she can.
(It should come as no surprise that Kiddo is done with karate lessons now, and forever.)
