My children often think I’m lacking in intelligence. You might assume this would upset me, but surprisingly, it doesn’t. In fact, I embrace it.
I feel incredibly lucky to have married a wonderful man who can effortlessly solve complex math equations in his head and recall the periodic table at any moment. This is particularly advantageous when my third grader comes home confused about her math homework; I simply tell her, “Go ask Daddy.”
He can easily play the role of a clueless parent, but it’s merely a facade. Just a couple of weekends ago, he turned our kitchen into a makeshift science lab “for the kids.” He was giddy, launching paper airplanes throughout the house using only fishing line and a balloon. There was no school project involved; he was just a bored dad having fun.
As for science fair projects? They’re spectacular. When it comes to pre-calculus, algebra, trigonometry, and physics, I just say, “Daddy will be home soon. Want to watch Mommy juggle in the meantime?” The irony? I hold a Master of Science degree, and he doesn’t. Life has a funny way of working out.
If Dad is unavailable, I resort to the next best option: the internet. “What a fantastic question, sweetie… you should look that one up online!”
I once read a non-fiction book to my kids about the sun, the big glowing orb in the sky. I thought I was fostering their curiosity by selecting something educational from the library. Instead, I spent days grappling with questions like, “Mom, if the sun is going to burn out one day, what happens to the world? Don’t we need the sun to survive? When is it going to burn out, Mom? Tomorrow?” They were terrified, and honestly, so was I. Why? Because I have no clue when the sun will actually burn out, and I regret reading that absurd children’s book because now I’m burdened with this knowledge.
From now on, any tricky questions will be directed to their father. If they need to know what time school starts, where their shoes are, or the difference between “seen” and “saw” in a sentence, they can come find me.
Ignorance is bliss. More wine, please.
Summary
In this humorous piece, Emily Thompson shares the amusing dynamics of parenting where she pretends to be less knowledgeable than she actually is, allowing her husband to take the lead on challenging subjects. While navigating her children’s questions about science and the universe, she finds joy in the chaos of family life and the occasional necessity of wine.