Stumped

I've never thought of myself as unintelligent, but I've also long been painfully aware that I'm not very knowledgeable. And by knowledge, I really mean facts - historical, political, scientific, you name it. I probably don't know it.

And every now and then, I get a little insecure, ashamed, really, because I know it's actually my own fault. I'm capable of learning, of remembering. Nobody nailed me to the couch and force-fed me those countless hours of "90210."

It's usually not a problem, but sometimes I get panicky about the prospect of one of my kids, inevitably, asking me a question that I can't answer. My parents? Know all of those kinds of answers. It could be that they make them up, but damn if they don't have me fooled. The ninth prime minister of Venezuela? Oh, that's so-and-so. The history of table salt? Ha. Who needs to think?

And one day, I just know Elan will ask me something considerably simple, like "Hey Mom, what's three-plus-six?" And I'll be all, "Umm...let me introduce you to Wikipedia! Or wanna learn some HTML?"

It's gonna be bad. Maybe you hope for your kids to be smarter than you. But to know more? I'm gripped with fear at the thought. Which is when I usually do my nails.

Tonight, at bath time, we discuss Ariel's progress on the potty-training front, because, while I know you don't want details, let's just say he made PROGRESS today.

"But Ariel," I plead. "Please don't pee on my carpet."*
"Eet's MY carpet, not yours!"

I'm used to his defiance - this is a child that thrives on being contrary. You say yes, he says no. You say up, he says down. You say you are Daddy's wife (not, um, his), and he'll say you are NOBODY'S wife.

"Actually, it's MY carpet," I reply, eyebrows raised challengingly. "Or did you and Elan buy this house? Have you guys been paying money for it every month and I just didn't know?"

Elan giggles. "No, we don't have money!" Ariel parrots, "We don't have a-ny money!"

Then, a thought occurs to Elan: "But where do you get money?"
"From our jobs," I say. "Daddy and I work, and the companies we work for pay us money."

"So where do the jobs get money?"
"From the bank."
"Where do they actually make money?"
"At a money-making plant." I'm not so sure about that one.

"Well, how did the first people who had money even decide that money was money??"

Crap. Already.

And it's probably never going to be, "Who was dating Dylan first, Kelly or Brenda?"

Is it.

*(Please don't judge me. Diaper-free = sca-ry.)