This morning four-year-old Maggie was writing a note to her brother (Mom, how do you spell “sorry?”) and she looked up at me and said “How does….” and then stopped to think of how to phrase it for a while. Then she said “How does God know how to write?”
I wonder what question she’s really asking, then answer “Well, God knows everything.”
Maggie: But how did he learn how to write?
Me: He probably had to practice. (trying to encourage her to practice, too)
Maggie: But who taught him?
Me: I don’t know, Maggie.
Maggie: Yeah, you don’t know that much. But Daddy knows everything. At least he says he does.
Me: Should we call him and ask?
I call Colin on the phone and repeat the conversation. He says “Tell her His mommy probably taught him.”
I repeat it to Maggie.
Maggie: Well who taught her?
Colin: Her mommy.
Maggie: What about her mommy and her mommy and her mommy?
Colin: Their mommies.
Maggie: That’s silly.
Colin: It’s not silly!
Maggie: It is silly. Her mommy and her mommy and her mommy. (in a sing-song voice as she walks away)
Whoah. What’s next?