Julie asked me the other day if Marc and I had time for “making out and sexing.” What I found fascinating about this (once I got past the incredulous what-the-hell) was that she wasn’t asking about sex (which would have been enough to throw me off, she’s only five!). She was literally inquiring about whether or not we had time to focus on it. It struck me as such an incredibly adult thing to think about – like she wasn’t thrown off by the idea of it, but wondered about how were we were able to balance out working, raising a family and still having time for each other.
She’s such an odd combination of scary-precocious and holy-moly weird. She’s quick to whip off her pants, loves being naked, and spends the majority of her time teaching herself how to read and write. When she isn’t doing that, she’s watching unbelievably crappy television shows that she picked up from hanging out with Sammy.
Last month, she asked me how it would negatively impact my friendship with Aviva if a tree fell on our car while we were parked at their house, because they’d have to pay to fix it. First she asked who would pay to fix the car, and then we got into a huge discussion about insurance and deductables and liability.
This is not the normal conversational thread for a five year old.
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