If you come to my house, you had better be prepared to answer some tough questions. Although the twins have yet to ponder existentialism or the nature of man, they are armed with a little bit of knowledge, and that's a dangerous thing, indeed. You see, being an expert in a particular field often brings the temptation to flaunt your knowledge in front of others, leaving them to sink into the sea of inferiority. It's the Alex Trebek syndrome, and Jack's got the bug.
Jack has taken on the role of quiz master, and there is only one category: Thomas the Train. The questions start out pretty easy. "Color's Thomas?". Blue. Everyone knows that. Then they get a little bit harder. "Color's James?". Mmmmm..... Oh yeah, red. "Color's Percy?". Green, maybe? I'm starting to feel the pressure. Jack is relentless and presses on. "Color's Emily?". They have girl trains on Thomas? "Color's Toby?". Jack senses weakness. "Color's Cranky?". Isn't that one of the Seven Dwarfs? Sweat begins to bead upon my brow. "Color's Skarloey?". How can you even pronounce that name? You're barely two! "Color's Diesel?". I should probably know this one, but I don't. I only put Thomas on when I want to clean the kitchen, or write this blog without interruption. "Color's Henry?". I give up. "Color's Molly?". You win! "Color's Duck?". My eye starts to twitch. Stop taunting me! "Color's Stepney?". Just leave me alone! My lip begins to tremble. And then comes the breaking point. "Color's Bullstrode?". I can take it no longer, and retreat to my bedroom to sob quietly, bearing the shame of intellectual defeat at the hands of a toddler.
Perhaps one day, Jack will grow a mustache and attain perfect pronounciation of the Spanish language, rolling R's off his tongue like water off a duck's back. And perhaps he will have a game show of his own, preferably with more than one category. But until then, he will just have to be content with that smug air of superiority that accompanies the asking of questions that you already know the answers to, and the satisfaction of finding that other people don't.
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Driving Me Crazy
11 years ago
2 comments:
uh oh you all are in trouble if they are this smart now wait till they hit the teenage years and they start thinking parents dont have a clue.
Don't feel too bad, I figured out a way to maintain at least a small edge over the little buggers. My eleven year old (Shadden) has begun asking me questions that I can no longer answer, even faking it with an educated guess. I start out by telling him that I am in the middle of something (think quick!) and will give him the answer in a minute. After he leaves my side, I quickly look the subject up on the internet and triumphantly return with the answer. Of course, all this is done to continue the facade that I am genius he thinks I am!
Jon Busse
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