>The Quizzer
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I really enjoy seeing my friend, Marilyn. Our kids are the same age, and we like to get together from time to time and chat while they play. Marilyn and I have a lot in common, so we have plenty to talk about. There’s only one problem…
Marilyn is a Quizzer.
“Jody,” she’ll ask her daughter while we sit with the kids in the playground sandbox. “What time does it say on my watch?”
Jody looks at the watch on her mother’s arm. “10:37,” she announces, before going back to dumping sand on her legs.
Marilyn smirks. “That’s right,” she says smugly, “and is it 10:37 A-M or P-M?”
Jody squints for a moment. “A-M,” she decides.
“Yes!” Marilyn says delightedly, looking back over at me. Yes, Marilyn, I noticed. Your kid can tell time. Woo hoo.
“So, you were saying the antique market on 3rd Avenue is a good one?” I prod.
“Oh, yes,” Marilyn says and we talk a little longer. But the woman can’t help herself; I know it’s only a matter of time before it happens again. And I’m right.
“Jody,” she says in a singsong, “What is today?”
“Wednesday,” Jody says.
“And what’s the month, sweetie?”
“SepBember.”
“Isn’t she cute?” Marilyn says to me. I realize this is my cue to express my awe in Jody’s amazing intelligence. So I don’t.
“She is very cute,” I say lightly, but that’s as far as I’ll go.
In the thirty minutes that Marilyn and I sit in the sandbox, she manages to get Jody to name the five senses, state her vowels, and recite the pledge of allegiance.
After listening to Jody sing all five verses of Amazing Grace, I decide that enough is enough.
“Punky,” I say in exasperation. “Name five of the Care Bears.”
Punky’s eyes light up. “Tenderheart Bear, Friend Bear, Grumpy Bear, Love-a-Lot Bear and Wish Bear,” she says quickly.
“Complete the following sentence,” I continue. “You can pick your friends and you can pick your nose, but you can’t pick—-“
“Your friend’s nose!” she giggles.
“Who makes the best French fries?” I ask.
“Mickle Donalds!” she squeals.
“My little genius,” I murmur to Marilyn. “I have no idea where she gets it.”
Marilyn forces a smile and says she has to run.
Don’t ask me why, but I think she’s trying to get away from me. Probably because she’s seen how ridiculously brilliant Punky is, and she’s very, very afraid.
This post originally appeared on Parents.com.
