Can You Read?

Yesterday you and I were on our way to Montessori. In our car my phone synchs with the display screen, and it will often cycle through previous destinations on the GPS map program, offering suggestions in case we want to go there again. As we went through downtown Marblehead the GPS momentarily offered to direct us to the Farmer's Market at the middle school.

From the back seat, you said "Where is Farmer's Market?"

I said, "What?"

"Farmer's Market," you said. "Where is Farmer's Market?"

"What made you think of the Farmer's Market?" I asked, looking at you in the rearview mirror. You didn't answer.

"Did you see Farmer's Market on the GPS screen?" I asked. 

You sort of waggled your head while looking out the window, your mind apparently already on other things, probably hats, because you are very into hats these days, we typically have two or three in the car for quick costume changes. The current candidates are a firefighter helmet, a WWI flying ace goggles hat, and your baseball hat from IYRS School of Technology and Trades. But *something* definitely put you in mind of the farmer's market, because later in the day you were playing "farmer's market stall" and offering me imaginary vegetables, saying "Here you go mama," and then telling me you were selling fish food. We've only been to the farmer's market once this summer, when you grandparents were here, and it was several weeks ago now. 

I told your dad this story was we settled into bed with our books last night. "Can you read?" you dad asked you disbelieving.

"No," you said.

But frankly, Succotash, I have my doubts. Are you holding out on us? Can you read?