In Which My Eight-Year-Old Rates My Intelligence Level and Finds it Wanting

Yesterday, L., age 8, told me that on a "weirdness scale" of one to ten, I was a ten.

Then she said that on an "intelligence scale" of one to ten, I was an eight. I asked, "Why eight?" She replied, "Because you didn't know that Michael Jackson's nose fell off, you didn't know that spiders have eight eyes, and you didn't know that starfish stick their stomachs out inside-out in order to catch food. I need you to be smarter than me if you're going to be a ten."

The conversation improved when she told me that on a kindness scale I was a nine. But then she said that on a height scale I was a five. Curious as to her reasoning, I asked why. She said it was because she compares me to "Uncle Glade" (my younger brother, who towers over me). She said she could only think of one adult who was shorter than me but could not remember the individual's name.

Clearly, I need her to spend some quality time with my friend Doug, or perhaps my sisters. Maybe that way I can rise higher than a five on her height scale.

Conversations with L. are sometimes confusing, often bewildering, but never dull.