This morning we were in the middle of our normal “school morning” routine (ok, so it was also picture day at school, so we were trying to take extra care in keeping the kids clean and tidy as they ate breakfast, so it was the normal routine sans the spills and crumbs), when the subject of Dingos came up in conversation. (note: such strange topics of conversation are part of the routine in our house)
Dingos, in case you didn’t know, are I think a species of wild dog that lives in Australia. At least, every time I’ve ever seen or heard anything about Dingos it talks about their living in Australia. So anyway, my older son started talking about a story he’d seen on television where a 9 year old boy and a 7 year old boy (my boys are 9 and 7, which is why I think he paid particular attention to this story) were attacked by Dingos. He went on to describe the attack, explaining that the 9 year old was killed and the 7 year old escaped and ran home. He was a bit in awe that the older of the brothers was the one killed. I think he was a bit worried that he and his brother might be attacked at the bus stop.
In an effort to distract him I asked “and where was this?” thinking he would say Australia and I could point out that we live half a world away and he didn’t have to worry about Dingos roaming our suburban neighborhood.
“Ummmm… let’s look it up on the internet!” and he left the breakfast table to go fire up the computer.
“Wait a minute, bud. Finish your breakfast. The bus will be here soon. We’re not looking it up right now,” I said. I thought this would be the end of it, but no…
“It was Rhode Island,” he said between bites of melon.
“What?”
“The Dingos live in Rhode Island,” he exclaimed. “Dingos live in Rhode Island and that is where the boy died.”
How on earth did he come up with this? “I think Dingos only live in Australia, bud.” At least I really hope Dingos don’t live in Rhode Island.
“Well, they may live in Australia too, but I know they live in Rhode Island,” he said.
“Yep, they live in Australia and Rhode Island just like my brother said!” proclaimed my younger son, the family animal expert in residence.
“And I hope they don’t come south for the winter like the Canadians,” finished my older son.
Enough said.
NOTE- For our dear readers…This was not a slam against Canadians. Our family does not equate Canadians with child-eating dingos… We like Canadians, especially the Mounties – with whom my younger son has a slight fascination. Peace to all out there!
