Children Are Wonderful…Sometimes
Published June 2, 1983. Ten-year-olds ask questions they shouldn’t. A few days ago, I sat down to write my column, and along came my son Jon. He asked what I was doing, so I told him.
“Who reads your column?” he asked.
“Many people do.” I replied as I kept on typing.
“How many?” he bluntly interrupted.
“Well, Grandmother Day in American Fork reads it. And your Aunt Jane and Aunt Karen in Salt Lake have indicated they read it once in a while.” By now I was feeling somewhat uncomfortable.
“Are they the only ones?” he asked.
“No,” I replied, “there are many others.”
“How do you know?” he asked semi-innocently.
“People write to me,” I answered, “and make comments and ask questions.”
I knew the next question. “How many write to you?” he inquired.
By now a little ruffled, I retorted, “Last week I received about 20 letters from one column.”
“You only have 20 readers?” he sneered as only 10-year-olds can.
“Maybe there were 25.” I answered. “I can’t remember. Jon, please, I have to get this article off today. Would you please stop asking me questions?”
“Just one more,” he said. “Why don’t I ever see your articles in the Deseret News?”
“They are there, every Thursday in the Today section,” I replied trying to be polite.
“Do men read your column?” Jon went on surpassing his one more question.
“Yes,” I said, “they do.”
“Why don’t you tell the Deseret News to print your column in the sports Section?” he suggested.
“A column on marriage in the Sports Section?” I slowly repeated.
“Yes,” he said, “or maybe even in the Comic Section. That way you would have lots of men and maybe even some kids, like me read your articles.”
Jon picked up his ball and bat and started for the door. “I think the neighbors down the street read your column.
“That’s nice to know, Jon,” I said. “You were making me wonder if anyone reads it at all.”
“I was in their house the other day and saw it in their front room,” he informed me as he took a few practice swings with the bat.
“Good.” I replied.
Jon opened the door and then turned toward me. “It was on the bottom of their bird cage.” He said and grinned as he went out the door.
Jon’s questions were a little humiliating, but he did have a point. Perhaps it would be helpful if I got to know my readers a little bit better. So please do me a favor.
Drop me a note in the mail and help me get to know you as a reader. Tell me where you live, your age (you may lie a little), if you are married or single, and if married, for how long? If you are the wife, please tell me if your husband reads this column. If you would like, you might also include a few suggestions for future column topics.
And to the reader who sends a letter with a postmark form the greatest distance away I will send a prize—my 10-year-old son, Jon.