Whose Daughter

She sure is your daughter, I tell MamaGoof when I get home from synagogue where GoofGirl made straight for the kitchen to help prepare after-service snacks.

Come talk to your daughter, MamaGoof calls when GoofGirl won't accept MamaGoof's answer to a question. GoofGirl wanted to know why our bones were on the inside of our body, not the outside. I told her bones on the outside would be too crunchy, and bit her. That would dissuade most children, but not GoofGirl. So I tried to explain evolution, but her follow-up questions quickly outstripped my knowledge.

Look what your daughter did, I told MamaGoof when I came downstairs to find GoofGirl had packed the lunches and made breakfast for herself and her brother. "Should we let her make dinner, I wonder what she can make without knives or heat?"

Then, while studying her atlas, she asks MamaGoof why they mostly speak Spanish in America. "Come talk to your daughter," MamaGoof calls. I tell her about Columbus, but that isn't enough. Why didn't the Native American make people in Europe speak their language? I explain about the missionaries, technology, and disease.

"Your daughter says laundry looks like fun, you should take advantage of this," I tell MamaGoof.

Upon receipt of her allowance, GoofGirl asked, "Where does money come from?" MamaGoof answered, "The bank."

But that wasn't good enough. "Go ask your father!"

We talked about gold and the Federal Reserve.

"Mi Nina, I know you want to help. But please, just let me make dinner," I pleaded as GoofGirl tried to hustle me out of the kitchen.

"But daddy, I need to know how to do these things, for when I'm a mommy."

"I'll make a deal, stay out of the kitchen and while I fix dinner, I'll tell you how the solar system works."

"Sweetheart, I don't know why dogs bark and cats meow. If you wait until your father gets home and ask him, I'll let you help me do the dishes. Deal?"