That's what my 6 years old son tells me. He's the smartest kid I've met. OK, one of the smartest anyway. And I'm not the only one to say this, he is unbelievably smart. He's 6 and he's already made up his mind about religion : of course he has, since he's had the past two years to question the existence of God, talk about different religions, read about them, trust in God and finally deciding that there was no way He existed. So yeah, he's smart. I don't care if people think I'm that kind of mother, the kind to think her son is gifted. What I know, is that I'm exhausted. I'm tired because he keeps asking questions, because he started asking « why » when he was 16 months old and has never stopped since. I'm tired because he second-guesses almost every decision I make, I'm tired because other parents look at me and think I'm a bad mother when they see him yelling at me and being hysterical because he didn't get what he wanted or because he thinks this or that is unfair. I'm tired because I don't know what to do, because I keep looking for answers, solutions, tips, and that I feel that I am, indeed, the most horrible mother in the universe. Today was a tough day. Tomorrow will be fine. We'll be just fine. And we'll go see a shrink because there is no way I'm letting him call me the most horrible mother in the universe again. There.