Mom, what is the rarest gem of all?

“Mom, what’s the rarest gem of all?”

The rarest gem of all?

Um…they’re all special in their own way. Like snowflakes.

Fine, my completely uneducated guess would be a diamond.

This “gem” came to my son during the twilight hours when he should have been winding down for sleep. Instead, every night he decides this is his favorite time to discuss the events of the day and how we’ll go about achieving world peace. Seriously?! Go to bed! How can you NOT be tired?! You’re NEVER tired! It’s like being tired would force him to admit some kind of human weakness. If only I could impart the knowledge to him that sleep would allow all of us to win. Sweet victory for everyone. World peace starts at home. Everyone knows this. Continue reading

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Ain’t nuthin’ but a 3 thang, baby.

toddler3

Ain’t nuthin’ but a 3 thang, baby.

Until I had Baby Boss I was convinced that the “Terrible Twos” were just a myth. I know…I deserve that eye roll.  I hadn’t even heard about the “Terrorist Threes.” I was under the desperately wrong impression that I was just a kick ass parent. Needless to say…I’m not. My ego has been put in check. Big Boss is like a magical unicorn. Baby Boss is a terrifying dictator who has borderline personality disorder. I am holding out serious hope that she’ll grow out of it. Don’t crush my dreams with your silly little thing called reality.

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Mom, who was the First Emperor of China?!

Um…China has emperors? Okay…

I wasn’t kidding. My son comes up with some doozies. This came to him while we were outside getting our daily dose of vitamin D. He was pedaling up and down the street when he shouted out this Emperor of China randomness. It’s a mystery what thoughts aligned in his brain to lead him to this question. I promise you my brain has never had this thought. Ever. Unless it once did and my mom was just super successful at repressing curiosity. Now that’s a strong possibility.

I also cannot discount the role that “the smart one’s” genes are playing in all of this. It sounds suspiciously like a thought he might have.

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Just Google it, Mom…

I’ve read that the average child asks roughly 288 questions per day. I’m not impressed. In my house, it’s more like 562. Which leads me to the purpose of this blog…

My son has odd and thought provoking questions each day that I struggle to understand the point of, much less have a legitimate answer for. My husband (aka the smart one, aka the repository for useless facts, aka the guy who disappears everyday from 8-5) thinks it’s wonderfully precocious AND that we should be encouraging this whimsical curiosity.

Amateur.

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