Score one for everyone but me. That’s what it felt like after multiple conversations with my five-year-old daughter Lexi. And it all began with a snowflake. Last night, Lexi decided to do some arts and crafts before bedtime. She presented me with a beautiful snowflake. “Awww, Lexi, that’s beautiful! Did you learn that from watching me make them?” No, mommy, I learned it from Caillou. Caillou-the bald, whiny, four-year-old animated kid from Canada! How did he teach you to make a snowflake?

Okay. That’s cool. I’m sure I taught her some things. “Lexi, what have you learned from mommy?” I don’t know. I can’t think of anything, but I can count to ten in Spanish. “Didn’t I teach you that?” No, Dora did. And I learned how to paint form Curious George. Oh. That’s great. I guess she’s one of the children that debunk all of those studies about the dangers of watching too much television.

But it shouldn’t matter who’s doing the teaching, right? As long as she’s learning appropriate information, I guess it shouldn’t bother me that the bulk of her learning comes from cartoon characters. That’s what I said last night, but as we were driving to school, I was determined to hear Lexi talk about something she had learned from me. What can I say? I have a competitive streak in me.

“So, Lexi, can you just think of one thing you’ve learned from Mommy?” Crickets…crickets…more crickets. Oh, yes, mommy, you teach me to be more patient. “I do?” (If you’ve been reading any of my earlier posts, you know that patience with my child isn’t a strength of mine so you can imagine my surprise at the moment.) Yes, mommy, this morning you were impatient with me and a little frustrated so I learned to be patient. What would your mommy magazine tell you to do?

See, Lexi once asked me why I read Working Mother Magazine, and I told her that I read it to help me be a better parent. So I think my mommy magazine would suggest that I wake up earlier so I can have time to read my devotion, get ready, and have enough time to help get you ready. My mommy magazine would also tell me not to freak out about getting to school late. Her school officially starts at 8:30, but the bell rings at 8:15 so I consider us late if we arrive after the bell rings. That’s punctuality. Anyway, I think my mommy magazine would suggest that I lighten up on the punctuality issue since (1) we’re not really late and (2) a child’s future effectiveness will not be ruined with one tardy.

I learned a lesson from all of this. While my husband and I are Lexi’s primary teachers, we’re not her only teachers, and I should feel blessed that learning comes from so many sources.

But watch out, Caillou. She might like you now, but one day, you’ll go off syndication. Then what? That’s right. I’ll still be here.

What? Haven’t you had an immature moment lately?