Mas is studying Lewis & Clark in school. His specific interest in this study is Meriwether Lewis's dog, Seaman. Now, this isn't my first time at the rodeo. This is my fourth kid. This big old Newfoundland's name has come out of many a child's lips in my household. I've learned to keep it together and not go to my inner 14 year-old boy every time we have a conversation.
So Mason tell's me he is studying Seaman. I tell him that's great. I recount that I love that they have a dog and it's one of my favorite parts of the story about their journey.
One day we're on a long car ride. It's quiet. Mas, seizing the quiet as a moment not to be interrupted begins chattering about school. Bert answers "yes" and "no" and "uh-huh" in a monotone, distracted father of four kind of way.
Then Mas says "And Dad, Mom says she loves Seaman."
Suddenly all three girls are awake and laughing hard.
Then Bert answers, "Um, that's not my experience."
Swells of laughter are punctuated with "Ewww, Dad."
***
Mas has always wanted a pet of his own. Never mind the fact that sometimes we've had as many as six pets in the house. None were "his". So one day when I was distracted (reading Twitter maybe) or drunk (after Happy Hour likely) he got me when I was vulnerable and asked if he could have a dog. I said "Yeah, sure. When you're 12." It was said in that non-committal way that I tell my kids they'd make a great astronaut or that Taylor Swift is an insightful songwriter. It carried no weight, okay.
Well, that was five years ago and Mas took it to heart. I constantly have to endure conversations about what kind of dog I think best when he's 12. "Stuffed" is not the answer he is looking for, apparently. Chihuahuas and Great Danes both seem to be high on his wish list.
The other night at dinner he announced that he was going to have a Newfoundland. And... he wants to name the dog, Seaman.
The three teenage girls lose it. Dinner is over. We've dissolved into the moment when Tim Conway cracks Harvey Korman up in the sketch. Keeping it together is no longer an option.
The girls start to anticipate all the awkward times calling the dog.
"Has anyone seen my Seaman?"
"Damn, there is Seaman on my shoe again."
"The cat has gone crazy on Seaman."
Mas is still oblivious. We haven't told him the inherent humor in the word yet. We're going to do it this summer when he isn't in school. Otherwise, he'll spend the rest of the school year enlightening his class every time his teacher speaks about the dog.
When we were all laughing about it, Rory wondered if members of the Corp of Discovery teetered about the unfortunate name choice every time the canine was called. She speculated that if they did, Sacajawea rolled her eyes and shook her head.
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