I’m not one who relishes tests and quizzes. I tend to stress BIG time, as my French professor can attest (“Why are you so stressed? You will get an A on this one just the the other ones. Oh la la! you are so silly!!” ūüėČ ). My palms get all sweaty, my stomach feels like it’s going to flip and flop it’s way out completely, and my heart pounds like a bass drum during a Sousa march. It really is pathetic, especially since I typically do get A’s on everything (my French professor wasn’t fibbing). Maybe I get A’s because of the stress? That must be it. Leave it to me to find a way around the pathetic nature of it all. I’m just glad I have the summer off to recuperate. Well, I did have the summer. And this is where my story starts…I know, took me long enough. I wish I would stress out over my lack of brevity once in a while ūüėõ
SO, a couple of nights ago, we were sitting having dinner. We do this pretty much every night, so that isn’t really an interesting tidbit. I sit at the “foot” of the table, so I get to have two Izzlets….usually the smaller variety of Izzlet…on either side. On this particular evening, I was flanked my S√©amus and √Čamon, the Dynamic Duo of Casa Izz. They were chatting away at me, and I tried to listen to both of them as I made sure they had what they needed in terms of food and drink; I’m a good mom, what can I say. Apparently, in the midst of the chatting, they decided to compare their mathematical prowesses.
“What’s 3+3, √Čamon?” asks S√©amus.
√Čamon becomes thoughtful, and then looks at me.
“It’s six” I tell him, and he smiles and gives S√©amus the answer.
The fact that I told √Čamon doesn’t escape S√©amus’ notice, so he decides to start interrogating me.
“What’s 6+6, Mom?” he asks, with an air of superiority.
“It’s 12, S√©amus.”
“What’s 20+20??”
“40”
“What’s 100+100???” At this point, you can tell he’s convinced I won’t know. I mean, we’re dealing with pretty big numbers now.
“It’s 200” and he just looks at me wide eyed.
“Ok then” he says, and you can almost hear the wheels turning in his head, as he comes up with something super hard to ask. “What’s a million plus a million?” he asks, with a bit of awe in his voice. Now he’s broken out the big guns. He smirks at me, knowing I couldn’t possibly know the answer to this one. I mean, one million is the hugest number ever. Only the smartest people should know the answer to such an equation. And since I can see that whole line of reasoning in his eyes, I pause for a moment to “think”, that way he at least thinks it’s hard for me to come up with an answer.
“2 million,” I respond, after a moment or two of dramatic pausing. Both S√©amus and √Čamon just stare at me, mouths open wide with surprise and awe. Yes, awe.
“WOW!!!! She’s SMART!!” whispers S√©amus, and √Čamon nods eagerly in agreement.
Yeah, I basked in that moment of sheer awesomeness. I could have told them how easy an equation it was, but I liked the fact I was super smart in their eyes at that moment. So, I didn’t say a word. I’m sure they discussed how much of a “Super Genius” I was when they went to bed, and I like that fact. And for the next few days, I’ll retain that status….at least until they’re bold again and I have to yell at them. I don’t want to know what they’re saying then. So, I’ll milk this one for as long as I can.
I can honestly say I didn’t have an attack of nerves at all during that “quiz”. I was calm and self assured throughout the entire ordeal. My French professor would have been proud of me. Maybe if her quizzes were just as easy, I wouldn’t have to annoy her with my stress this fall. I’ll have to talk to her about that…

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