My toddler Robin ran up to me last night and asked me a question of some sort in Spanish. I smiled nervously and fumbled out the words "Oh, is that Spanish?". But there was an awkward pause as we both knew: At two years old, my daughter was already smarter than me.
I knew she would figure it out eventually, but I thought maybe it would be a calculus problem in high school or something equally menatally challenging. You know, something that even fairly intelligent Dads have been felled by. But, alas, it was a simple Spanish phrase, taught to her by Dora the Explorer. If only Dora had been a pudgy German girl, I might have stood a chance.
"Yes. Spanish." She said and walked off, mildly disappointed. Oh well, it was bound to happen sometime.
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Hi, Wes! I enjoyed your blog for the first time. Burlap boxers? yikes! that can't be good for your skin!
About the language thing with kids. . . when Nora was just one, she was running around with this open Greek phrase book proclaiming something over and over. I listened to her and it was, "My father can read big words, too, like Constantinople and Timbuktu." You may recognize this great line from Dr. Seuss' Hop on Pop. I knew then we were in trouble! (one, because Nora was memorizing lines from books already and using them in the right context, even if by coincedence and two, because Ronnie does not know big words as she was so proudly proclaiming!).
Now, we've got the teacher to contend with. I love her teacher. However, she's the end all, be all. Daddy and I know nothing; the teacher knows all. This only comes in handy if I catch Nora telling an untruth and I can say, should I call Mrs. White and ask her about this? That snaps her to attention quickly.
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