So, this summer’s song of choice is actually “Just Give Me A Reason” by Pink, but other than that every word of this post remains true. In fact, I am pretty sure when I give you the latest example of my lack of book smarts you will definitely might conclude I have gotten dumber. And am not only not smarter than a 5th grader, but not actually smarter than my 3rd grader.

Sitting at the table the other day, Abby asked a question about geography. In attempting to answer I might have suggested that Europe is a country. Or something like that.

Emma, thankfully, was there to save the day…again.

“Um, mom, Europe is a continent.”

Seriously, is it too late to sign up for summer school? For myself?

Tell me I am not alone. Do you feel like your brain cells for actual knowledge are slowing being replaced with the ability to name all the members of One Direction?

 

I am not saying that pre-children I was a rocket scientist or anything.

But I could certainly rattle off more than just the names of Santa’s reindeer and all the characters in The Little Mermaid from memory.

There were years when I could not only tell you every nominated Academy Award Best Picture, but I would have actually seen them, too. Granted that was before The Academy went and made it available to ten movies, so I guess I had a bit of advantage over today’s moviegoers.

I am still a reader, and I follow the news (not even just the news on Facebook, thank you very much), so I don’t feel like my entire brain got delivered with the last child, but I am quickly coming to the realization that I am certainly dumber than I once was.

Case in point came today in the car with the children.

We were driving along listening to Lady Gaga sing “Edge of Glory”, which could be questionable I realize, but the fact that I am no longer burdened in the car by “The Ants Go Marching” or the “Go Diego Go” theme song is a win in my book. I have plenty of years left to teach morality lessons. Not so many though to keep from driving off the road if the damn ants don’t pick up the pace with the marching one by one.

So, Abby, in her quest to drown out my enjoyment of the music gain as much knowledge as possible pipes up from the backseat with this question, “What does edge mean?”

A total softball, right?

Not for me. I sputtered for a second before replying with the brilliant, “Edge? What does the word edge mean? It means like the edge of something.”

Wow, someone call Webster’s because there is a cubicle with name on it just waiting for my genius in their definition department.

Thankfully, Emma came to the rescue with an answer that seemed to satisfy her. Honestly, I don’t remember what it was as I was too busy at that point mentally composing this blog post in my head.

This happens ALL.THE.TIME. y’all. With words, with basic questions, don’t even get me started on geography, I swear I don’t even have to download the app to know that in fact I am NOT smarter than a 5th grader, because quite frankly on any given day I don’t even think I am smarter than my four year-old.

It is even worse when it happens in front of Robert, because I think part of his attraction to me might have been my intelligence or seeming capability at thinking and knowing things. So, when we are all together as a family and Emma asks a seemingly innocent question about what exactly causes thunder to make its sound, I totally find myself hoping he will chime in first. Which, of course, he totally doesn’t, because he wants to see me take a crack at it first.

Needless to say, I dig deep into the recesses of my brain and think about the fact that I wish I had paid better attention in Mr. Grubb’s science class and then come up with the only acceptable answer I can.

“The thunder sound is made when God bowls a strike.”