You know how kids ask those questions sometimes that kinda knock you off your rocker?
Like this week when Princess Goofy asked me how babies get out of tummies. The thing is that she never gives you enough time to answer the question before she answers. Of course she blurted out her version of the answer 5 seconds later and I agreed because it’s easier to agree.
She also almost always asks these questions in the car, while I’m driving.
Yesterday (as I was driving) she said, “Mom, where does my real dad live?”
AT this point my brain was saying a thousand times over “whaat? who? where? whaaaaat?” but nothing would come out of my mouth. Speechless does not even begin to convey what I was at that moment.
In her typical fashion she just replied, “Oh yeah, you know God, my real father.” (WHEW) “He lives in Heaven, I just forgot. Ha ha.” Then she continued looking out the window and kinda bopping around to the music that must be forever playing in her head.
Let me just say that I am beyond thrilled that she knows that God is her father at only 6 but let me also say that I am not above bribing her with Chuck E. Cheese to say that again really loudly at the family reunion.
Because let’s admit it, the look on all the grandparents faces would be priceless.