Frequently, my daughter busts me up so much, I really can't stand it. She's funny because she's really a 50-year-old woman trapped in the body of a seven-year-old who hasn't quite figured out that fact. She oftens asks me questions that are strangely mature yet naive at the same time, which of course always equals funny. This was a representative exchange we had over the weekend:
Little KC: "Mom, do parents really have eyes on the back of their heads?"
KC: "Yes."
Little KC: "I don't have any eyes on the back of my head."
KC: "That's because you don't get them until the moment you have a baby."
Little KC: "But what if I never have a kid?"
KC: "Then I guess you won't get eyes on the back of your head."
Little KC: "But what if I have an annoying husband I have to keep an eye on?"
KC: "Well, OK, probably in that case you'll get them."
Little KC: "OK, good."
Now, I can never laugh when she says things like this because she's dead serious and becomes majorly offended if I happen to let loose with a chuckle. There is no attempt at humor involved. She is serious as a heart attack when it comes to these discussions because, hey, she's got stuff to figure out. So don't be laughing, G.
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