Wit Inspirations Of The "Two-Year-Olds"


Wit Inspirations of the "Two-Year-Olds" is a charming sketch collecting the unintentionally hilarious sayings of small children — a warm and funny celebration of the logic of the very young. "Children say the most enchanting things."
Wit Inspirations Of The
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All infants appear to have an impertinent and disagreeable fashion nowadays of saying "smart" things on most occasions that offer, and especially on occasions when they ought not to be saying anything at all. Judging by the average published specimens of smart sayings, the rising generation of children are little better than idiots. And the parents must surely be but little better than the children, for in most cases they are the publishers of the sunbursts of infantile imbecility which dazzle us from the pages of our periodicals. I may seem to speak with some heat, not to say a suspicion of personal spite; and I do admit that it nettles me to hear about so many gifted infants in these days, and remember that I seldom said anything smart when I was a child. I tried it once or twice, but it was not popular. The family were not expecting brilliant remarks from me, and so they snubbed me sometimes and spanked me the rest. But it makes my flesh creep and my blood run cold to think what might have happened to me if I had dared to utter some of the smart things of this generation's "four-year-olds" where my father could hear me. To have simply skinned me alive and considered his duty at an end would have seemed to him criminal leniency toward one so sinning. He was a stern, unsmiling man, and hated all forms of precocity. If I had said some of the things I have referred to, and said them in his hearing, he would have destroyed me. He would, indeed. He would, provided the opportunity remained with him. But it would not, for I would have had judgment enough to take some strychnine first and say my smart thing afterward. The fair record of my life has been tarnished by just one pun. My father overheard that, and he hunted me over four or five townships seeking to take my life. If I had been full-grown, of course he would have been right; but, child as I was, I could not know how wicked a thing I had done.

I made one of those remarks ordinarily called "smart things" before that, but it was not a pun. Still, it came near causing a serious rupture between my father and myself. My father and mother, my uncle Ephraim and his wife, and one or two others were present, and the conversation turned on a name for me. I was lying there trying some India-rubber rings of various patterns, and endeavoring to make a selection, for I was tired of trying to cut my teeth on people's fingers, and wanted to get hold of something that would enable me to hurry the thing through and get something else. Did you ever notice what a nuisance it was cutting your teeth on your nurse's finger, or how back-breaking and tiresome it was trying to cut them on your big toe? And did you never get out of patience and wish your teeth were in Jerico long before you got them half cut? To me it seems as if these things happened yesterday. And they did, to some children. But I digress. I was lying there trying the India-rubber rings. I remember looking at the clock and noticing that in an hour and twenty-five minutes I would be two weeks old, and thinking how little I had done to merit the blessings that were so unsparingly lavished upon me. My father said:

"Abraham is a good name. My grandfather was named Abraham."

My mother said:

"Abraham is a good name. Very well. Let us have Abraham for one of his names."

I said:

"Abraham suits the subscriber."

My father frowned, my mother looked pleased; my aunt said:

"What a little darling it is!"

My father said:

"Isaac is a good name, and Jacob is a good name."

My mother assented, and said:

"No names are better. Let us add Isaac and Jacob to his names."

I said:

"All right. Isaac and Jacob are good enough for yours truly. Pass me that rattle, if you please. I can't chew India-rubber rings all day."

Not a soul made a memorandum of these sayings of mine, for publication. I saw that, and did it myself, else they would have been utterly lost. So far from meeting with a generous encouragement like other children when developing intellectually, I was now furiously scowled upon by my father; my mother looked grieved and anxious, and even my aunt had about her an expression of seeming to think that maybe I had gone too far. I took a vicious bite out of an India-rubber ring, and covertly broke the rattle over the kitten's head, but said nothing. Presently my father said:

"Samuel is a very excellent name."

I saw that trouble was coming. Nothing could prevent it. I laid down my rattle; over the side of the cradle I dropped my uncle's silver watch, the clothes-brush, the toy dog, my tin soldier, the nutmeg-grater, and other matters which I was accustomed to examine, and meditate upon and make pleasant noises with, and bang and batter and break when I needed wholesome entertainment. Then I put on my little frock and my little bonnet, and took my pygmy shoes in one hand and my licorice in the other, and climbed out on the floor. I said to myself, Now, if the worse comes to worst, I am ready. Then I said aloud, in a firm voice:

"Father, I cannot, cannot wear the name of Samuel."

"My son!"

"Father, I mean it. I cannot."

"Why?"

"Father, I have an invincible antipathy to that name."

"My son, this is unreasonable. Many great and good men have been named Samuel."

"Sir, I have yet to hear of the first instance."

"What! There was Samuel the prophet. Was not he great and good?"

"Not so very."

"My son! With His own voice the Lord called him."

"Yes, sir, and had to call him a couple times before he could come!"

And then I sallied forth, and that stern old man sallied forth after me. He overtook me at noon the following day, and when the interview was over I had acquired the name of Samuel, and a thrashing, and other useful information; and by means of this compromise my father's wrath was appeased and a misunderstanding bridged over which might have become a permanent rupture if I had chosen to be unreasonable. But just judging by this episode, what would my father have done to me if I had ever uttered in his hearing one of the flat, sickly things these "two-years-olds" say in print nowadays? In my opinion there would have been a case of infanticide in our family.


This story is featured in our collection of Short-Short Stories to read when you have five minutes to spare.


Frequently Asked Questions

What is Mark Twain satirizing in "Wit Inspirations of the 'Two-Year-Olds'"?
Twain is mocking the Victorian-era trend of parents submitting their young children's supposedly clever remarks to newspapers and magazines for publication. He treats this genre with exaggerated bitterness, pretending to resent the fact that his own childhood wit went unrecognized and unpublished while lesser children received public praise.
How does Twain portray his father in the essay?
Twain's father is portrayed as a humorless, terrifyingly strict authority figure who responded to any attempt at wit with physical punishment. In one of the essay's comic highlights, Twain claims his father "hunted me over four or five townships seeking to take my life" after he made a single pun — a gross exaggeration that underscores the gap between his father's stern world and the indulgent parents he is satirizing.
What is the running joke about Twain being a "two-week-old" baby?
Twain extends the essay's central absurdity by claiming he was making sophisticated, articulate remarks as a two-week-old infant, turning the "cute things toddlers say" genre on its head. When his parents debated naming him Abraham, the infant Twain supposedly replied, "Abraham suits the subscriber" — a deadpan, adult-sounding phrase that is funny precisely because it is so implausible and self-important.
What comic techniques does Twain use in this essay?
Twain relies primarily on exaggeration and anachronism, pushing scenarios far beyond any realistic boundary for comic effect — such as a father chasing his son across five townships over a pun. He also sustains a mock-serious, aggrieved tone throughout, pretending to be a genuine victim of injustice rather than acknowledging that the entire premise is absurd.
What does the title "Wit Inspirations of the 'Two-Year-Olds'" mean?
The title is ironic, referring sarcastically to the supposedly inspired wit found in the published sayings of very young children. Twain uses quotation marks around "Two-Year-Olds" to signal his contempt for the genre, implying that the adults who publish these remarks are the real children — easily impressed by trivial observations dressed up as precocious brilliance.
When was this essay written and where does it fit in Twain's career?
The essay dates from around 1870, placing it in Twain's early career, roughly the same period as "The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County." It is representative of the humorous sketch form Twain was mastering in this period — short, punchy, built around a single satirical target, and delivered with the exaggerated personal voice that would define his mature style.

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