adjective: not serious about something in an attempt to be funny or appear clever
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I’ve always loved the word “facetious”. Why, you ask? Well, it’s not because of an infantile appreciation for its similarity in sound and spelling to the word “faeces”, I can assure you! I’d like to say it’s due to my love of laughter, and by extension humour, but truthfully, that doesn’t quite reach the heart of the matter…
Many moons ago, the cleverest three-year-old ever was incredibly stubborn. I won’t bore you with the details of that in this particular post. She – that is to say I – was also prone to being a tad awkward at times. Riddle me this: when an intelligent, awkward, incredibly stubborn three-year-old who likes big words is told “don’t be facetious”, what do you think she’ll do?
The first order of business is obviously to find out what the word means. Being extremely clever, the child – my former self – was able to work it out from the context. Despite this, she chose to continue being facetious and ask what it meant…
“Being awkward” was the answer she was given. While not technically an accurate description of the word facetious, it was a fair assessment of the child’s behaviour. I wonder now, is it really so bad to be awkward if it’s funny?
Good, bad or indifferent, the cleverest three-year-old ever chose to continue being both awkward and facetious for many years. Approximately three decades later, a certain author and blogger is still told by her father “don’t be facetious” on a regular basis. While hearing him say that always makes me smile, it does leave me with one small concern…
Back then, I was the cleverest three-year-old ever. No question about that. And I chose to keep being facetious, despite being told not to. Now, approximately thirty years later, my Dad (who is also inclined to be facetious) still tells me not to be. He knows it’s a choice I make. He has to. My concern is: did he also know this when I was the cleverest three-year-old ever? I’m sure he did. So, was he being facetious himself when he told me not to be so many times? And if so, did I miss the joke and take it as a literal instruction? Was I, in fact, not the cleverest three-year-old ever?
This stray thought which has come to me while writing this post has shaken me to my very core. Was I, at three years of age, not as clever as Dad? That’s impossible! I think I finally understand how Luke Skywalker felt at the end of The Empire Strikes Back…
Eureka! I have found a new hope. When I was three Dad was really old: certainly older than three! So, I maintain, I was the cleverest, most stubborn, awkward, facetious three-year-old ever.
Now that I’ve managed to nip that little identity crisis in the bud, dear reader, I think I need a lie down! I’ll let you enjoy the rest of the day’s facetiousness – without giving it too much thought.
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