Family Man®: Caveboy Speaks

By Gregory Keer

For years, I lived with a prehistoric boy. He showed signs of modernity in his looks (no excess body hair, unless you count the shaggy haircut) and with his choice of tools (made with circuitry rather than flint), but he spoke in grunts.

“How was school, Benjamin?” I’d ask each day at pickup.

“Nnhhh,” he’d growl, like an extra from Encino Man.

I got the same responses for just about any question I dared call into his cave. It didn’t matter if I was asking about his friends or what his latest reading material involved, I couldn’t get a polysyllable out of him.

As is my usual way, I figured there was something wrong with me. After all, my son was only an elementary school student, too young to develop adolescent surliness or a calculated agenda that warranted using the silent treatment. When he was with his buddies, he never shut up. He even earned a couple of “Needs Improvement” remarks on his report cards for talking too much in class. Who was this kid and why, when he was around me, did he clam up like a low-level mobster getting worked over in a police interrogation room?

It must have been the way I asked questions, or when I asked them, or the kinds of questions. So, on occasion, I tried inquiring about Pokémon. In those cases, I got more vociferous responses … only I couldn’t understand a damn thing he was talking about between the multitude of strange “mon” names and obtuse game rules.

At that point, I pretty much gave up, assuming that I would have to wait until Benjamin was in college or a family man himself before I could have a legitimate talk with him.

Then, fourth grade happened and my young Neanderthal went verbally ape. Perhaps, in getting a little older and wiser, my 9-and-a-half-year-old suddenly found more in common with me. It was as if he realized I wasn’t a boring adult, fit only for hounding him about washing his hair for more than five seconds or eating with a fork (another example of his caveman habits).

Now, when I ask him about his school day, he responds in paragraphs. The newly verbose Benjamin tells me the slapstick jokes his friends concoct, what he learns about plant growth, even his running time for the race he does every so often in P.E.

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