Um, math is hard?

Hmm.

A few people (ok, one - Sal) have (has) pointed out that I haven't blogged for awhile. Sad truth is, I've got nothing blog-worthy to relate. I read. I write. I go to class. I babysit. Um, I have a new red umbrella, that was kind of exciting...

Ok, ok.

Babysitting story:

Putting the six-year-old to bed, he asks, "Do you have a boyfriend?"
Here we go again, I think. "No."
The kid flops face-down on his pillow. "I'm trying to get a girlfriend."
"Oh, yeah? A particular girl or a girl in general?"
"A particular girl."
"What's her name?"
"I don't want to tell you."
"Ok." I rub his back. "You don't have to."
"Catherine."
I bite the inside of my cheek. If I weren't paid to keep a straight face... "What's she like? Is she nice?"
"Yeah."
"Is she pretty?" God, why do I ask that? What I am telling this kid, by asking that?
"Sort of." Huh?
"Is she cool?"
"No."
"Is she smart?"
"Yeah, she's smart."
Trying to save my earlier flub: "Well, that's cool - smart girls are cool."
The kid props himself up on his arms and looks at me with a mixture of pity and contempt. "No, they're really not."
Of course, the charming thing is that, despite the fact that he knows it's not cool to like smart girls, he likes the smart one; the sad thing is, this tendancy is apparently beaten out of the male species by the time they hit their teens.