The Sons of Noah
One of Jack’s very favourite books is a version of Noah’s Ark in which there are four wooden animals which can be placed onto the pages at appropriate points. It’s a really colourful, cartoon book and a good re-telling of the old Bible classic.
Jack loves the animals. “Aminals” of all sorts are very exciting and he can now reel off every pair, from kangaroooooos to toucans, spiders to rhinos.
Yesterday we got to the last page where Noah and his family are looking at the rainbow spreading out over the soggy land.
“Who’s that?” asks Jack. He often does this, even when he knows the answer.
“That’s Noah” I say.
“Who’s that?” says Jack.
“That’s Mrs Noah. Noah’s wife.”
“Who’s that?” he says, pointing to a bearded man next to Noah.
“That’s one of Noah’s sons” I say.
“What’s he called?” Jack asks.
“I don’t know" I confess, rattled, "he’s just one of Noah’s sons.”
“What’s he called?” Jack insists. Dads are supposed to know everything.
I don’t like letting the little fella down this early on in my dad-hood. So straight away I get on the phone to my mum, Jack’s grandma, who way back in the mists of time, did a degree in Theology.
“What are Noah’s sons called?”
Oh dear. She doesn’t know. Then in the background, I hear her ask the same question to her husband, my dad.
Quick as a flash he comes back with “Ham, Shem and Japheth”.
"Brilliant. Thanks Mum, thanks Dad."
See. Dads do know everything. Or at least, mine does. He can take apart a car engine and put it back together, plumb in a washing machine, plaster a wall, understand calculus, history, literature, find anywhere in Britain without a map…. and he always, always beats me at Trivial Pursuit.
A couple of minutes have passed but Jack is still on the same page. “That’s Ham and that’s Shem.” I tell him.
“Ham and Shem” Jack says, totally satisfied.
Phew. I’ve passed the dad test this time. But I’ve still got a LOT to learn.
Incidentally, how cool is this? The Brick Testament