I Used to Know Everything

Here is an old story from 2006. Elder would have been nine years old, Younger six…

After a tug of war with Younger over my husband’s baseball glove, which Elder has stolen as his own and Younger thought he could borrow for a few minutes to retrieve a small tube of chap stick from the car’s back floorboard, Elder, the victor, settled happily back in his seat, clutching the filched glove.  “Hey, Mom,” he said.

“Yeah?”

“Oh, never mind.  You wouldn’t know.”

Immediately appalled and offended, I, in a squeaky voice, repeated, “I wouldn’t know?”

“Well, all right,” Elder said, doubtfully.  “What size is my glove?”

After a long, long hesitation, during which I considered lying, I finally muttered, “I don’t know.”

“See?  I knew you wouldn’t.”

I think the hardest part about your kids believing you don’t know everything is…they’re right.

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