This, my friends, is the story of a long con. It involves some relevant background information, so bear with me while I explain. The pay off is worth it, trust me.
Without further ado, I have an old friend that I have known since high school. And as with all good friends that you've known that long, I've spent a lot of time hanging out with this person. During those occasions, we have shared stories, talked about the latest happenings in our lives, and occasionally reminisced about years past. That last part is the relevant bit for this story. She swears that there used to be a rumor of sorts circulating about yours truly. I'd never heard of it, but she assured me that people used to say that my first English word was "octopus."
English wasn't my first language (that'd be Spanish), so I got to learn while going to school. I don't really remember much about it, though I know that my teachers and classmates were kind enough to try to pronounce my name in Spanish. Now, I didn't attend high school with all that many people from my elementary school, so I have no idea where the heck this came from. Heck, I'm pretty sure it's an out-and-out lie. However, I have the kind of friends who like to poke fun of me, so she would occasionally needle me about saying "octopus." It was all in fun, so I've always been amused by the whole thing.
Well, guess who went and had herself a kid. Do you know what little kids do? They learn how to talk. Specifically, they learn how to talk by repeating the things they see and hear around them. I saw my chance, and I pounced.
When her son was barely a few months old, I got him a book. A book called "Octopus Opposites." Yes, I realized that he was far too young to actually read the book at that point. But I figured that if I put it in his general vicinity and it was first in line, he'd see it more often and he'd get very used to it. By the time he was old enough to understand the concept of reading, the octopus book would have already had its foot in the door. And if all went well, he would learn how to say the word, "octopus." Sweet, sweet karmic revenge would be mine.
The best part is that this plan freaking worked. In fact, not only did it work, it demolished all of my expectations. I figured he'd notice the book and at least recognize the octopus on the cover. Nope, his parents did end up reading it to him, and he absolutely loved the book. I have gotten more than one text message bemoaning how often they have to read this book to him. You have no idea how big the grin on my face is when I hear something like that. I have literally had to tell myself to stop smiling, for fear that one of my coworkers would think I was being weird.
Now, I have no idea if he can say the word, or if he'll grow out of this phase. But I do know that the octopus revenge is mine.
Without further ado, I have an old friend that I have known since high school. And as with all good friends that you've known that long, I've spent a lot of time hanging out with this person. During those occasions, we have shared stories, talked about the latest happenings in our lives, and occasionally reminisced about years past. That last part is the relevant bit for this story. She swears that there used to be a rumor of sorts circulating about yours truly. I'd never heard of it, but she assured me that people used to say that my first English word was "octopus."
English wasn't my first language (that'd be Spanish), so I got to learn while going to school. I don't really remember much about it, though I know that my teachers and classmates were kind enough to try to pronounce my name in Spanish. Now, I didn't attend high school with all that many people from my elementary school, so I have no idea where the heck this came from. Heck, I'm pretty sure it's an out-and-out lie. However, I have the kind of friends who like to poke fun of me, so she would occasionally needle me about saying "octopus." It was all in fun, so I've always been amused by the whole thing.
Well, guess who went and had herself a kid. Do you know what little kids do? They learn how to talk. Specifically, they learn how to talk by repeating the things they see and hear around them. I saw my chance, and I pounced.
When her son was barely a few months old, I got him a book. A book called "Octopus Opposites." Yes, I realized that he was far too young to actually read the book at that point. But I figured that if I put it in his general vicinity and it was first in line, he'd see it more often and he'd get very used to it. By the time he was old enough to understand the concept of reading, the octopus book would have already had its foot in the door. And if all went well, he would learn how to say the word, "octopus." Sweet, sweet karmic revenge would be mine.
The best part is that this plan freaking worked. In fact, not only did it work, it demolished all of my expectations. I figured he'd notice the book and at least recognize the octopus on the cover. Nope, his parents did end up reading it to him, and he absolutely loved the book. I have gotten more than one text message bemoaning how often they have to read this book to him. You have no idea how big the grin on my face is when I hear something like that. I have literally had to tell myself to stop smiling, for fear that one of my coworkers would think I was being weird.
Now, I have no idea if he can say the word, or if he'll grow out of this phase. But I do know that the octopus revenge is mine.
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