Over dinner tonight, *Mila* pulled out a coffee table book and said "I want to read this book Mom. Will you read it with me?" So there we sat looking over the works of Pablo Picasso. All the while pouring out conversations that were intelligent, curious and understanding. She asked all the right questions and didn't get all silly when we looked at some of the abstract nude models he portrayed. Then she pointed to a painting in the book and said "You know what this one's called, Mom? It's called Woman in a Red Armchair." GULP. "And this one is the Pipes of Pan". Um, okay. Did she really pay attention to me 2 months ago when we sat there at the dinner table with that same book while I painstakingly read out the names of each work of art by Picasso. I thought she was being playful with me and trying to drive me insane. You mean to tell me she was actually paying attention? Is this an experiment? Am I like on the Truman Show or something? She's got an aptitude for art history and she's four. I'm loving it. We then had to proceed with the history of Picasso himself. "How many wives did he have, Mom?" She told me that she's going to tell the art teacher that she wants to read a Picasso story, because he's her favourite artist. Do you think she'll be telling the teacher how many wives he had and how Pablo liked to paint boobies? Oh, please no!
One more *Mila*'ism before I am summoned out to measure for a deck: While riding in the car on Sunday night *Mila* burst out with this thought. "You must have had a hard time sleeping while I was in your tummy, didn't you, Mom?"
signed, the willow
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