Gabe is so much like me it scares me

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Gabe was at Cold Stream today with his grandmother and siblings, enjoying a summer day.  

There see some kids there his own age, so naturally there was cause to flex his muscles a bit and assert his male dominance.  Gabe being my son, this of course took the form of a spelling bee.  Heroic we’re not. 

There was the usual back and forth.  

“Betcha can’t spell ___”


“Oh yeah, I bet YOU can’t spell ___”

After a while, it must have gotten heated.  I can just imagine the onlooking girls just popping into puberty watching this, the only thing lamer than a dance off.  

Gabe had an idea.  

“Can you spell chameleon?” he asked the other kid.  

“Duh” came the reply.  “I just don’t want to.” 

Gabe knew he had him.  After a bit of banter, the antagonist asked Gabe to prove HE could spell chameleon.  He spelled: c-h-a-m-e-l-e-n. “I spelled it wrong on purpose, Dad.  Then I asked him if it was right.  It was the only way I could see if he really knew.  “Duh” came the other kid. 

“Wrong!!” Gabe happily shouted.  “I misspelled it on purpose – you don’t know how to spell chameleon at all.”

He tells me the other kid was pretty angry.  My hero.   


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