Are You Smarter Than A 3.5 Year Old?

The Foods

"Mommy, look, foods," KZ said as she pointed out of the cab window as we sat at a red light.

Foods?  I was looking out the window, but really didn't see any grocery stores or street vendors, which is odd on the Upper East Side.

"Foods, Mommy, foods.  F ... O ... O ... D ... S ... foods!"

Than I saw it, big as day, practically in my face.  There was a parked truck with the word "Foods" visible to KZ.

Yes, she was certainly seeing Foods.  I was so proud. 



The Present

"Mommy, is that a present for me?" KZ said.

I looked at the religious-neutral holiday wrapped gift on top of KZ's pram. 

"No, Honey, it isn't for you," I said.

"Is it for Aviv?"

Now how does she know that it is for Aviv?  Yes, it is for Aviv.  Aviv is the name of the little boy she drew for her "Secret Santa".  I'm not sure of all the politics in pre-school Secret-Santa-ing, but I was under the assumption that the gift was suppose to be from "Santa", not KZ.  So, I played it cool.

"No, Honey.  It isn't for Aviv."

"Then why does it say Aviv on the tag?  See, A ... V ... I ... V ... Aviv?"

Busted ...

She looked at me like the prosecuting attorney on a trail for a major crime ... the crime of lying to your child.

"Why, yes, it does say Aviv, now doesn't it.  I guess it is for Aviv."

KZ just looked at me for a long minute, then rolled her eyes and walked off. 

I felt a bit embarrassed, but I was so proud.



The Hat

"Mommy!  Help me with my bicycle hat, please!"

KZ had just been given a bicycle helmet from one of her best buddies, Chloe.  That morning, at Chloe's apartment, they rode their bikes all through the hallways, laughing the entire time.  I'm sure the neighbors on the floor enjoyed it as much as KZ and Chloe did.  KZ didn't have a helmet, but Chloe had two.  She gave KZ her spare to take home, which was wonderful.  Now back at home, KZ wanted to ride her trike through our apartment, showing off her new hat. 

"Ok, Sweetheart, Mommy will help you with your hat."

But I couldn't.  I could not for the life of me get the buckle to close.  I kept inspecting it with my "engineering degree" eyes, but came to the conclusion that it was broken.

"Honey, I think this got broke somehow on the way home in the cab.  Mommy will have to buy you a new one."

Once again with the eyes rolling in annoyance, KZ took the helmet off her head, and clipped the safety buckle closed. 

"See, Mommy, that's how it is done."

My husband sprayed his coffee across the counter at that moment.  He was, unsuccessfully, trying not to laugh.

I was truly embarrassed, and, at the same moment, truly proud.