Coming home from daycare today, ST asked me the weirdest question.
“Mommy,” she asked, “How do you spell Freddy Krueger?”
“What?” I asked, not sure I’d heard correctly, “How do you spell what?”
“Freddy Krueger,” she repeated.
“Why do you want to spell that?” I asked, confused.
“Mommy,” she chided me, “You didn’t answer me.” Left with no other option, I spelled it for her.
“Mommy,” she then informed me, “I’d like to Google that.”
Instantly I saw, in my head, her having a terrified fit seeing this image:
“Um, no,” I informed her, “You’re WAY too young, and that’s WAY too scary.”
“I’m not SCARED!” she insisted, “I’ve seen TWILIGHT! That’s WAY scarier than this Freddy guy!”
Mentally I struggled with how to explain that Freddy Krueger is to Twilight what a nuclear weapon is to a water balloon. I shook my head to clear it.
“The answer is NO, and that’s final,” I told her. “Besides,” I added, “Where did this come from? Where did you hear about Freddy Krueger??”
“It just appeared in my head,” she said slyly.
“Oh, it did, did it??” I said, sarcastically, “It just MAGICALLY arrived there, huh?”
My son, who had been quiet this whole time listening to our exchange, piped in the with answer:
“She ate Smarties,” he chimed in, “They make you know stuff.”
I laughed out loud. “Smarties make you smarter??” I giggled.
“Uh-huh,” she smiled. “Maybe we should give some to Daddy.”
