It was Sophie’s turn to drive me crazy today. I know she’s only two, and some of you might not feel much sympathy for me after reading my humble story, but I really need to vent.
All posts by Pink Me Not Mom
About Nothing
Sisterly Love
Monopoly
He’s Not Rich Enough
While we’ve established that Sophie may not be a toddler genius, Chloe is, without a doubt, a political savant.
During our annual Thanksgiving dinner at my Mom’s place, Chloe amused everyone by showing off her vast knowledge of trivia. She asked everyone at the table to ask her questions. They ran the gamut:
What’s the capital of France? What’s the capital of the United States? What’s the capital of New Jersey? Who was the first President of the United States? What was the name of the ship the Pilgrims sailed to America? Who is the current U.S. President? As a bonus, Chloe threw in the names of Bush’s daughters and cat.
After a few rounds of family-style “Jeopardy,” someone asked her whom she would like to see as the next President. “Papa” was her heartwarming response (perhaps if Hillary Clinton gets elected, her response next time will be “Mommy”). The question that followed was “Why can’t your papa be President?” Expecting her to quote Article I, Section 2 of the U.S. Constitution verbatim, thereby gently reminding everyone that her Papa can’t be President because he’s not American, she did one better. Her response was simple, yet so incredibly astute, that we all were momentarily stunned into silence, before bursting into fits of laughter. Papa can’t be President, she confidently replied, “because he’s not rich enough.”
What this says about the state of our country’s political process when a 7-year old comes out with that doozy is beyond me. Watch out, all you highly-paid TV pundits. Chloe is close on your heels.
(For a related and timely article, click here)
Genius?
For about one minute earlier this evening, I thought my little Sophie was a genius.
Chloe and I had started playing a game of Rummikub and were in the process of selecting and organizing our tiles. Sophie partook in the fun by choosing tiles of her own.
As we were getting ready to make our first moves, Sophie pointed to one of Chloe’s tiles and exclaimed, “10!” She did that a few times before I realized what was happening, and when I looked at tile she was eyeing, it was indeed a 10.
I was amazed. My husband, who was watching this scene unfold, just snickered (that’s because he’s French). When he suggested that we ask Sophie to identify the numbers on other tiles, I readily complied.
And faster than a snap of the fingers, my dream (ok, that’s not really my dream) of her being the youngest member of Mensa was quickly deflated. For Sophie, all of the other tiles were 2s or 3s, regardless of the actual number displayed.
And then I remembered. This is a toddler whose aptitude for counting by numbers goes something like this: “oneee, twooooo, threeeee, nineeeee, tennnn” (I’ll have to add audio to provide readers the full effect). Admittedly, not a bad start for a two-year old. But I won’t be sending in her application for MIT anytime soon.
Tenacious C
No, this post is not about Jack Black’s musical alter ego, Tenacious D. This entry is actually about my tenacious Chloe.
Supper Club
As I’ve mentioned in a couple of my recent blog entries, my husband and I are making a Herculean effort to have nice dinners as a family. At times, we succeed quite well. Other times, we fail miserably.
Hallelujah!
My kids are mallrats. Not the teenager kind in the Kevin Smith movie. It’s just that they basically act like rats when they’re at the mall together. Not in a dirty, scavenging way, mind you. Just in a can’t keep up with them, can’t tame them, “I’m never going shopping with them again” kind of way.