Brie-ware Of Misheard Words

A young mum comes through my checkout with her son, who can’t be more than two or three. He’s small, still a bit wobbly on his feet, but he’s absolutely determined to help.

Mum: *Handing him each item.* “Alright, darling, pass it to the man so he can scan it.”

The little guy beams, carefully lifting each item up to the scanner. Bread, bananas, cereal, all done with the seriousness of a heart surgeon. Every beep makes him giggle like he just cracked a secret code.

When we finish, I smile and say:

Me: “Cheers, buddy! Have a nice day!”

The little boy freezes mid-step, frowns, and turns around.

Kid: *Indignant.* “I’m not your cheese body!”

The mum tries to hold in her laughter as she crouches down to explain.

Mum: “He said ‘cheers, buddy,’ love. It just means thank you.”

But he’s not buying it. Arms folded, shaking his head, still glaring at me like I’d just accused him of being dairy.

Kid: “No. I not cheese.”

I assure him I believe him; mum laughs all the way out the door, and the boy leaves victorious, utterly convinced he had defended his honour against being mistaken for a wedge of cheddar.