Stella was up in her room, singing and getting dressed. She came down and announced to Elwood and me that she was sorry she had taken so long. "I was just thinking about prime numbers," she explained. I mentioned this to the boys at dinner, and they cheered. The boy sitting next to her gave her a high-five, welcoming her to their quirky fraternity.
I'm...not sure she'd get quite the same reaction at the school lunch table that she did at our family dinner table.
Yesterday afternoon I was feeling crabby after the Saturday housekeeping jobs were all done. This sounds sad and whiny now, but I didn't want to walk across the kitchen floor, which was freshly mopped and not even by me. The not-by-me element of that job meant that it was quite puddly, and I had already dampened a pair of socks upon it and switched them out for fresh ones.
The kids knew I was tired and cranky. "We'll help you!" Joe assured me. He and Pete attempted to link arms, to make me a sort of human palanquin. It worked about as well as you might expect, but at least laughter resulted rather than injuries. Stella announced that she would carry me across the floor single-handedly. "Oh, sweetie," I said, "I'm too heavy for you." She tried to lift me anyway. "Do you weigh a hundred pounds?" she asked. "More than that," I told her. She came right back with "Do you weigh a thousand pounds?"
Joe burst out laughing. "She's using Fermi estimation to guess your weight!" he said.
Think how much more peaceful American women would feel if they could report their weight using Fermi estimates. There's something to be said for that approach.
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