Questions Shmestions

This morning I was working out in the café at the gym, typing away minding my own business, when a former student of mine approached me to let me know if I sat up straighter and flexed my abs while I typed I would actually burn more calories.  Jeremy wishes you all the best in your future endeavors, as tragically, he was fatally injured this afternoon in a very unfortunate accident involving a minivan.

In completely unrelated news, my speech delayed two-year-old is already asking me questions I don't know the answers to.  As my people say, "Oy!"  If I don't know the difference between sheep and lambs, how am I going to get around explaining how a caterpillar morphs into a butterfly or why Nana still wears a fanny pack?  At least the former question can be answered with a little research.

This recurrent fear I have that my kids are going to be constantly asking me questions I don't know the answers to is already causing me concern.  A few years ago my nephew was playing a geography game with a globe and asked me to show him where Yemen is.  I had no idea.  And it's not just me who doesn't know.  I'd be willing to bet all of those kids I taught geography to over the years don't know either.

 

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