The knower of all things…

I live with the knower of all things.  I live with a teenager.

There is no topic that the knower of all things cannot opine on.  She is sure that she has something critical to contribute to all conversations.  She cannot be convinced that she may have gaps in her knowledge base.

It can be exasperating living with the knower of all things.  My eyes rotate in their sockets at least once every hour when the knower of all things is pontificating on the ways of the world as she knows them.  Sometimes I have to allow my mind to go to its happy place to save my sanity.

I understand that the day will come when the knower of all things doesn’t feel obliged to share with me the expanses of her knowledge.  I know she will grow up and I will wish she was still around to talk to me.  So most days I listen to the knower of all things and I remind myself that this too will pass, and one day I will miss it.  Other days I wonder how our species survives past teenager-hood. ;-)

Day one thousand two hundred and eighty-nine of the new forty – obla di obla da

Ms. C

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About Ms. C

I teach at NDSU...but I remain a student of life with all the enthusiasm that entails. My favorite saying is, "Sometimes you have to take the leap and build your wings on the way down." In the new forty that is what I am doing...building my wings.
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One Response to The knower of all things…

  1. tim haering says:

    Used to be, our species did not survive teenagerhood. Tutankhamen was a teen when he died. It was a rough life, back in the day. But somehow we struggled to an average lifespan of 50. Then along came tech-based capitalism and soon the age of acute disease gave way to the age of chronic disease. We just keep buying ourselves more time to be astonished and aghast at teenagerhood.

    I got one myself. It’s astonishing how much he knows with mouth so open and ears so shut. And just when it seems he never listens, he spits out one of my observations almost verbatim as if he just minted it. And my pulse settles back to 60 and I smug, certain every word is in there somewhere.

    GO, Cheyenne! Know those things! I bet you know how many holes it takes to fill the Albert Hall.

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