I was playing 20 questions with Clara – age 8 – in Panera last night while waiting for our dinner.
Clara’s questions to me:
“Is it a person?” (YES)
“A woman?” (YES)
“Is it Clara Barton?” (NO)
“Did you know Clara Barton had a lisp?” (YES – she had told me this ten minutes before)
“Did she work in the US government?” (YES)
“Is she still alive?” (YES)
“Is it Ruth Bader Ginsberg?” (NO)
“Is it the first lady justice on the Supreme Court, Sandra Day O’Connor?” (NO)
At this point, I was ready to fall out of my seat. I assume that my wife taught Clara about Sandra Day O’Connor, but I’m not sure. The woman sitting adjacent to us, who was apparently listening to the conversation, looked just as surprised as I did.
“Give me a hint,” Clara said.
“She was the Secretary of State,” I said.
“Oh,” she said. “Hillary Clinton.”
Had she said Madeline Albright, the first female Secretary of State, I don’t know what I would’ve done. My head might’ve exploded.
When Clara went to the counter to get napkins, the woman sitting next to me leaned over and asked, “Was Sandra Day O’Connor really the first female Supreme Court Justice?”
“Yes,” I said. “But I have no idea how she knows this or anything else.”
Later I would find out that Clara read a book on the subject: Women of the Supreme Court.Available on Razz Kids.
When I was eight years-old, I was still forgetting to wear underwear on a regular basis, perfecting the milk-out-of-my-nose trick, and spending my weekends in rock fights with my brothers.
I’m not sure if Clara is brilliant or I was sub-human.
