Questions to dread...

So last night was one of Rachel's work nights. Actually more afternoon, I guess. It went well with Chiara sleeping for about an hour and then waking up and wanting to play. So the three of us were sitting on the couch playing. Chiara was sitting in my lap and giggling and kicking and Asher and I were finding countries in his big Atlas to look at the flags. And then he got very serious:

Asher: "Ima?"
Me: "Yes."
Asher: "Can I ask you a question?" This was said with the level of solemnity that made me expect a question like "where do we go when we die?" or "why don't I have a daddy?"
Me: "Sure."
pause
Asher: "Is 52 divisible by 4?"
Me: "Uh, yes."
Asher: "I thought so but I just couldn't remember."
Me: "Yes, 52 is 13 x 4."
Asher: "Ok. Thanks."
Wow, was I prepared for a harder question than that.

Then I told Rachel this story and she said, "oh yeah." Apparently yesterday was the day that they actually had the "why don't I have a daddy conversation" (which we've had before but, heck, he's 4). So maybe I was channeling that.