mindless fathers, or, the wisdom of a four-year-old

Tonight I sang the girls their bedtime songs. They requested songs from the Children's Songbook. They would thumb through the pages, select a song, and ask me to sing it. After finishing each song, I'd close the book and hand it back to one of the girls so they could pick the next one. After several songs, Savannah asked me why I closed the book each time I handed it to them. I told her I didn't know, that I did it without thinking.

After a moment's reflection, Savannah said, "Dad, you don't have a mind. I have a great mind because I think. But you don't think. Mom has a great mind. She thinks alot, just like I do." Then, after a pause, she said. "Dad, we could say that you have a mind, just not a great one like I do. That would be fair."

Sigh.