Dumb Dad

There's a time when you know your child is smarter than you.

We were at Target today, and Noodle and I were passing through the isles looking at coffee makers. I have a French press, but sometimes, I just want an automatic coffeemaker that will wake me up in the morning with the smell of fresh brew. It's cheaper in the long run than buying Kundin' or Barstucks [sic] coffee.

There's the gorgeous Mr. Coffee (and what does this do Captain? It makes coffee Lord Helmet!) automated Lamborghini red machine that's staring back at me. It does everything you could want, except grind and dispose of the beans itself in a eco-friendly way.

I'm staring at it, justifying in my head how wonderful it would be to have said machine on my counter-top taking.

As I'm beginning to reach for it, Noodle says, "Let me see how much it costs!"

"$44.99! That's expensive, Daddy!"

"Is it?" I ponder.

"Yes," she replies, now beginning to list off the prices of other coffee makers. "$24.99! $59.99! We don't need one of these? Do you?"

"No," I give in. "I guess you're right."

Later, we were shopping for throw pillows at Dock 2 Imports [sic] because they were having a clearance upon clearance sale. Yeah, I'm a sucker for decorating items that are marked 75% off. They had pillows for $6 that had been retailed for almost $30 just a few months ago. I picked out some great looking accent pillows for the Bauhaus utilitarian couch in my living room. I had previously bought a new rug and it had been on the floor since the move.

"Do you like these pillows?" I ask.

"Yes," Noodle says. "They're pretty!"

"I'm thinking blue because there are blue accents in the rug."

"There is?" Noodle looks bewildered. "Where?"

"In the TV room area, by the couch. Isn't there blue in the rug?"

"No," she says.

"Yes," I say, grabbing two blue pillows of different patterns. "It's blue accents with those neat squares."

"I don't think so, Daddy." Noodle now has the "my-daddy-is-color-blind" look on her face, her nose squished into her face like she smells a daddy toot.

We make our purchases and head home. We drop the bags in the living room area, get Noodle ready for bed, read some books, snuggle a bit, and fall asleep.

I wake up an hour later to clean up downstairs. I open the bag of pillows. I cut off their tags. I turn on the lights in the TV area, and sure enough the rug is brown and green.

I go to the kitchen and realize, I probably don't have enough counter space for a coffee maker.

Since when do our children become our guides? Or are we Virgil and they Dante, on a journey to a point where they shall eventually embark a ship and say, "I need to take it from here. You were good enough to this point, but clearly, I'm in the lead."