“Mama, what’s yours talent? You know how some peoples dance or sing or make fings wif art? What’s your talent? Do you even got one?”
Weighty question from a kindergartener. Can I call him that if he’s ‘done school’ fewer than one dozen times this year? We’re still getting into the homeschooling saddle. I shouldn’t even use that phrase. I’ve been on a horse once. Horseback riding…definitely not my talent.
I have no answer for Graham. He is wanting to hear that I excel at something. I sing well enough to blend in at church. I quit the clarinet almost two decades ago. I don’t paint or sew or act.
“Graham, I can’t think of anything. What do you think?”
“It’s not makin our house clean. I know dat.”
I’m 32. I love my husband and my children. I love them well. But I definitely do not have anything I could showcase at the Mrs. Missouri pageant.
“Is there anything you think I’m good at?”
Grammar. But I’m fond of ending on a preposition just to stick it to the man.
“Reading. You’res good at reading books to me.”
I’ll take it.
I’m officially claiming ‘Good Reader’ as my talent. From now on, I needn’t worry about my legacy or lack of accomplishments. I am a good reader of children’s books. Tonight, that’s good enough.