Breakfast this morning found us discussing rare items - Ty Cobb's rookie card, a first edition of The Hobbit.
"Just think," Tim imagined, "if you found an original copy of the Gospel of Mark."
I started talking about the shepherd boys who threw stones into a cave outside of Jersualem. When a rock made a clinking sound, they went into explore and found the Dead Sea Scrolls, manuscripts dating back to 150 B.C.. The story has always fascinated me.
We moved on to King Tut's tomb, discovered only a hundred years ago. I was going on and on, but couldn't remember the archeologist's first name.
"You know, Johnson, the English guy who discovered King Tut's tomb."
"Johnson?" Kolbe jumped in with a tone of utter incredulity, a tone that screamed "Has my mother the former history teacher done lost her mind?"
"Johnson! Don't you mean Howard Carter?" my little know-it-all continued. "Howard Carter discovered King Tut's tomb."
Suddenly the cobwebs cleared, and I remembered that Howard Carter was in fact the very fellow. And then I laughed until I cried.
"Mom, you're not even smarter than a second grader," Tim rejoined ever-so-kindly.
The mind, what a terrible thing to lose.