too much knowledge.

Maybe this kid knows too much.

At bedtime – of course at bedtime, it’s always at bedtime – Bergen Hawkeye comes shooting down the stairs.  (You can never say that boy walks down the stairs.  He just doesn’t.)

He sails into the living room and exhales.

“Mom!” he has that look in his eyes.  “There’s a cockroach in the girls’ room!”

Ugh – gross.  A cockroach!  What in the world.

“Son,” I give him a certain look in my own eyes.  “Go kill it.  Just kill it please.”

“Mom,” he grins.  “That might be hard.  It takes six pounds of pressure exerted on a cockroach to kill him.”