A few weeks back, as I was taking the boys to the bathroom at Aquatica, I had an interesting moment. We were waiting for my youngest son to finish, and my oldest son was practicing snapping. He was snapping with both hands at the same time, and looking awfully proud of himself.

“Cool,” I said. “Now try this. Hold your left hand up high and snap.”

He did it.

“Now do it again, but as soon as you snap with your left hand, snap with your right, and keep your right hand in a fist.”

He did it.

“Okay,” I said. “Now after both have snapped, slap your left down on top of your right, twice.”

I showed him how: snap-snap, slap-slap.

He grinned and tried. After a couple tries, he got it right.

“Hey,” a man said as he walked by. “I remember my Poppy teachin’ me that.” He did it twice quickly.

My son’s eyes widened and he did it again. 

The man laughed. “You got it.”

Another man walked by, chuckling.

My youngest joined us at the sinks and washed hands, then we headed out.

“Hey,” an older man called out as we walked around the corner. He did the full routine for us, snapping, slapping, and waving while he called out whoop-whoop. Then he put his hand between his eyes in the classic Curly block for the traditional eye-poke.

My son did his new trick.

The man laughed. “Nyuck, nyuck!”

“Soitanly,” I responded.

I don’t know anything about Curly (other than that he was in the Stooges), but I’d imagine he would have gotten quite a chuckle out of the whole thing.