My kids think I’m stupid. I knew the day would come when they’d be teenagers and roll their eyes, thinking they knew everything. Problem is, they’re not even teenagers yet!
But, I know why they think that. Over the last 12 and a half years, they’ve worn me down. I no longer answer their questions with well thought out, articulate answers. Heck, I hardly even suggest we “look it up.” No, now the answer to such things as “was the T-Rex around before the Longneck?” or “Did Paul Mc Cartney sing that song when he was with the Beatles?” is simply I don’t know.
You know why? Because I just DON’T. Maybe I used to know and all that knowledge has been pushed aside with new knowledge like the proper dosing of Tylenol and Motrin, who needs to be where and when, if I switched the laundry and when school projects are due.
I hadn’t really noticed until the other day, while driving in the car my daughter asked me something and I answered with the standard I don’t know. She told me I’ve been saying that a lot lately.
Yeah, well, I guess they’d better get used to it. I’m not getting any younger, and their questions aren’t getting any easier. Luckily, now the older ones are answering some of them for the little guy. At least he won’t be stupid.