Ignorance

My kids think I’m stupid.  One would think that this would bother me, but it does not.  To some degree, I actually encourage it.  My husband is a scientist.  I defer all difficult questions to him.  He can do shit with his mind that I cannot even comprehend on most days.  When we were in college, he once read my organic chemistry textbook “for fun.”  Not kidding.  Here’s what I said, “What the hell are you doing?  Are you f#*king crazy?  It’s Friday night.  Go get a beer…or please leave!”  He’s smart…but not “dorky smart.”  He can pass as a complete ignoramus any day of the week, but that’s just a cover (most of the time…).  A couple weekends ago, he transformed our kitchen into a scientific experiment “for the kids.”  He was like a kid in a candy store sailing paper airplanes across our house with nothing more than fishing line and a balloon.  There was no assignment.  He was just bored.  He’s a really good Dad.      

I feel very fortunate to have married a guy who can do advanced math problems in his head and recite the periodic table of elements from memory at any given moment.  Here’s why.  Because when my 3rd grader comes home with math homework that she doesn’t understand, I can simply say, “Go ask Daddy.”  Half the time I don’t get it either, so why make myself feel stupid even trying?  Future science fair projects?  Off the hook.  Pre-calc, algebra, trigonometry, physics…”Daddy will be home soon.  Do you want to watch Mommy juggle in the meantime?”  Here’s the biggest joke of them all…I have a Master of Science degree and he does not.  It’s funny how life works.

If Daddy’s not available, I resort to the next best thing…the internet machine.  “Great question child…you should look that one up on the computer.”  I like to play stupid.  I once read a book to my kids about the sun.  You know, the big shiny thing in the sky.  I thought I was doing a good thing by selecting a nonfiction book from the library to encourage my children’s learning.  Instead I had to spend days thereafter trying to answer such questions as these, “So Mom, if the sun is going to burn out some day, what is going to happen to the world?  Don’t people need the sun to live?  When is the sun going to burn out Mom?  Tomorrow?”  They are scared…and now so am I.  Why?  Because I don’t know when the f*#king sun is going to burn out and I wish I wouldn’t have read this stupid children’s book because then I wouldn’t have been the wiser.  From now on all such questions will be immediately directed to your Dad.  You want to know when school starts or where your shoes are or when to use “seen” versus “saw” in a sentence…come find Mom.

Ignorance is bliss.  More wine please.

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