Over the last two years or so I have fallen in love with cigars (don’t judge). I really give credit to Moppet for fostering this habit. I started with the Onyx, but that was just a fling. I flirted with Ghurkas and Montecristos. Romeo y Julieta? We danced away those summer nights. Nevertheless, I didn’t *really* fall in love until I met this dame here…
But I digress, as usual. This summer, of course, stogie night often came with human as well as feline companionship. Our neighbors, Patrick y Adelid, often joined us for some fireside conversation on Fridays and Saturdays, bringing with them their two little ones.
A few days ago, Adelid and Pepe — their three year old — were at Goodwill, and Pepe found a container of giant crayons. Somehow or other, he ended up holding one by its end and pretending to smoke it.Adelid: What are you doing? Do you think that’s ‘cool’?
Pepe: (embarrassed) Yes…
Adelid: What have you seen, who have you seen that makes you think that’s ‘cool’?
Pepe: Kevin does it.
Adelid: Smoking is a choice that some grown ups make even though it isn’t good for them. Next time you see Kevin, you should ask him why he does something that will make his teeth fall out.
So there it is.
On one hand, Pepe thinks I’m cool. Thanks, Pepe! I think you’re pretty cool, too.
On the other hand, if my teeth do fall out, it will be just compensation for misapplying my influence by making a three year old think that smoking is cool. (Eh c’mon, kid, be a man an’ try a puff… put HAIR on yer chest) Seriously. I feel moderately to highly shitty about it.
The obvious solution is to print off a bunch of archival American Cancer Society posters (I remember them quite clearly from the Washington State Ferries terminals in the early 1980s) and post them throughout my house at knee level — Pepe’s level. I think they’d make decent wall art, don’t you? Or — here’s a thought! — I could just stop smoking when there are chilluns about. Not a glamorous answer, but it does sound like the right one =(