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My 3-year-old grandson Corwin was getting a bit rambunctious around the house -- to the point that I was having trouble keeping up with him. It pays to be cute,
except when you’re not"Corwin," I said, "you're wearing me out. You have to learn to do what your grandparents tell you so we don't have to chase you around so much."
He looked at me innocently. "I haven't learned yet," he said. "I'm still practicing."
A few hours later, after he continued to ignore my commands, I asked him how his obedience practice was coming along.
"Not yet," he sang out. "I'm still learning how."
He merrily went off and I let him get away with it. What a scam, I thought. It sure pays to be cute.
I thought about how I could use Corwin's unique method of dealing with people who hassle him in my own life and soon got a chance.
I was making a left turn at an intersection near my house and a police patrol officer coming toward me on the cross street thought I cut the turn a little too close. He sped ahead of me, made a U-turn and pulled close to me so we were eyeball-to-eyeball through our car windows.
"Watch where you're going," he shouted at me. "That was a pretty wide turn."
"I was watching," I said. "I saw you and I stayed in my lane."
"What if you had hit me?" he shouted.
"I didn't hit you," I said. "I didn't come close to hitting you."
"What if I had hit you?" he demanded.
I sighed. "You didn't hit me," I said. "You didn't come close to hitting me. You didn't even have to brake to avoid me."
"You better watch where you're going," he yelled.
He was starting to repeat himself and I'd about had it. It was beginning to resemble one of those schoolyard arguments you can't win:
"Why you looking at my girlfriend?"
"I'm not looking at your girlfriend."
"What, she's not good enough for you?"
I figured if I'd really done anything wrong and the cop had anything on me, he'd have pulled me over to give me a ticket instead of yelling at me through my window as he blocked oncoming traffic.
I was about to tell him to either cite me or get out of my face. Then I remembered I had tried that once before with a Virginia state trooper who pulled me over for allegedly speeding. The results were dismal. It cost me a $160 ticket when he had planned to give me only a warning.
So I decided to try Corwin's method of appeasement with my belligerent patrolman. "I sincerely apologize for any offense I may have caused you," I said as pleasantly as I could. "Obviously I haven't learned to execute a proper left turn yet. I'll practice until I get better."
"What do you mean you'll practice?" he asked incredulously. "You should know how to make a turn by now."
"Not yet," I said cheerfully.
He yelled at me for a good five minutes more until he finally started to roll up his window.
"Idiot," he snarled.
"Moron," I muttered.
I drove away completely baffled as to why Corwin's method of pacifying unhappy authority figures worked so well for him and so poorly for me. I guess it boils down to the sad fact that there's absolutely nothing cute about me.
David Shapiro is managing editor of the Star-Bulletin.
He can be reached by e-mail at editor@starbulletin.com.
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