Kids are freakishly wise. This is a feature I started in the pre-Wordpress version of my blog to document the freakishly wise things that occasionally spill from my kids’ mouths.
Sky can knock me over with his musings sometimes (“Mama, why is Aunt Jemima always smiling?” he asked at age 3). But Rose, now 3 herself, is catching up.
On the staircase Tuesday night, staving off the inevitability of bedtime, a feminist was born:
“Mama? You know that Snow White story-show with the Snow White princess and that bad woman and that apple, and then she eats the apple and she dies on the floor, and then that big guy comes and he undeads her and then she wakes up and they begin to get married?”
“Yes, sweet sweet. What about it?”
“That’s really boring and sad.”
“I think so too, sweetie. I think so, too. Now go to bed.”