“Grandpa, what does 'side effects' mean?” asked the eight-year-old grandson playing on the floor with an iPod, Bluetooth and Raspberry – or whatever it's called – while I was tuned to CNN listening for political developments. Odd thing about being an eight-year-old, they can be doing three or four things at a time and still hear what's going on at the television.

“Side effects,” I explained, “is something bad that happens to someone who is taking medicine to make them better, but not as bad as it could be if they weren't taking it.”

He looked at me sideways.

“Grandpa, that doesn't make much sense.”

“Well, when you get to be my age you'll understand.”

“When I get to be your age I'll probably be dead,” he replied, going back to his Bluetooth and sticking it up to his ear trying to hear something like I used to do in the long ago while holding a sea shell to my ear and pretending to hear the ocean.

I turned back to the TV, but was interrupted in a few minutes again when he put the Bluetooth down and after watching the next commercial, asked: “Grandpa, what's constipation?”

I thought about the question for a few minutes, but didn't respond.

“Haha!” he said, grinning that impish smile of his, “you don't know what constipation is do you Grandpa?”

He really had me on the defense now. I mean nobody wants their grandchildren to think they're stupid, although most of them probably do, and I suppose we are in many ways to a little boy.

“Is it because the door is locked and his dad won't let him in?” he suggested.

“Maybe something like that,” I replied, “but ask your mother when she comes home because she probably knows.”

“Grandpa,” he said, “you must have been a school dropout at 6 because you sure don't know very much.”

I ignored that. Anyhow he wouldn't have heard me because another commercial appeared on the screen.

“Grandpa?” he asked when it was finished. “What does nausea mean?”

“It means, well, like you kind of want to vomit after you take something.”

“Why would anybody take a medicine that makes them puke?”

“I---I---, well why don't you ask your mother when she comes home?”

“Boy grandpa, you don't know beans about beans, do you?”

I was about ready to turn the damn TV off, but it was on another commercial and he was watching it, and rather gleefully I thought, waiting to hear the side effects of the product, which was pills to make you sleep and when you wake up see blue butterflies.

“What's drowsiness?” he asked.

“Well, it means you may fall asleep and shouldn't drive anything because you might run into a ditch and get a ticket for reckless driving.”

“Boy, that's really a stupid commercial grandpa. If you take a sleeping pill, isn't it supposed to make you drowsy?”

“Don't you think we've watched enough TV?” I asked. “Maybe you can teach me how to play iPod or Bluetooth.”

“Ha ha, Grandpa,” he said, “I even beat you at checkers and Old Maid. Anyhow, iPod and Bluetooth aren't games.”

Well, that was it. I got up and started across the room to shut off the consarned TV before it advertised another product and listed a dozen side effects, but I was too late, another had just come on and of course it aroused immediate questioning from my grandson.

“What's ED, grandpa?”

No way was I going to respond to that one.

“You don't know what that is either, grandpa?” he said shaking his head and holding the Bluetooth thing to his mouth and trying to talk through it as if it was a microphone.

“What's a wreckshun, grandpa?” he shouted through it.

Again I avoided answering, turning off the TV and picking up a newspaper.

“Boy, grandpa,” he said shaking his head again, “are all old guys like you so dumb?”

I grunted something unintelligible and turned back to the newspaper.

“Wow!” he exclaimed, “that's the worst side effect yet. It says if you take an ED pill and have a wreckshun for four hours if you don't call the doctor you might be dead. Are you sure you don't know what ED is?”

“No, for the second or third time, you'll just have to ask your father when he comes home, he's the doctor!”

Comments: Woody Laughnan, vallefox@accessbee.com