There are moments in parenting that catch you completely off guard. Moments that make you pause, smile, and think: Where on earth did that come from? This was one of them.
We were just sitting there, doing nothing special, when Miss J. (age 7 years and 4 months, a very precise and important age) dropped this gem of cosmic wisdom:
It started innocently enough. A casual scratch here, a little scratch there. Nothing alarming, right? But then, it became a constant. An itch I couldn’t ignore. A maddening, relentless scratching. Behind my ears, at the nape of my neck, on the crown of my head. I even found myself scratching in front of the dairy section at the supermarket while contemplating which yogurt to buy. A true sign of desperation.
Turns out, I had reason to scratch—I had lice.
Today, I was a child again. For one whole day, I became the daughter of my daughter, and she—my spirited, witty little girl—became my mom. Sounds complicated? Not really. Just wildly entertaining.
We decided to swap roles for the day. And so, this morning, I stayed in bed longer than usual, lazily scrolling between tablet, phone, and my book. I read sneakily, of course—because kids only read under threat of losing screen privileges, right? When my eyes started to blur from too many gadgets, I shouted:
“Moooom, I’m huuungriiie!”
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Last week, during a calm and cozy evening, I played a little game with Miss J., who is currently 6 years and 9 months old and full of opinions, wisdom, and a dash of sass. The game? Q&A: Ask Me Anything Edition.
Thursday, 7 PM. Pajamas on, teeth brushed (more or less), and it’s that sacred time of day: bedtime. The moment when little feet finally settle, eyes get heavy… and suddenly, a journalistic fire ignites in the heart of a 5-year-old.
Tonight, I was under a very serious investigation—courtesy of Miss J., my daughter, age 5 years and 8 months, full-time truth-seeker and part-time philosopher.