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Daddy, What’s a U.F.O.?

I was making my way down the stairs late Saturday morning when I spotted my precious 8-year-old daughter.  She was clutching in her right hand this week’s copy of Barron’s.  She looked at me. 

“Daddy, what’s a U.F.O., she asked? 

Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I responded, “why, do you ask’? 

She retorted, “Alan Abelson failed to explain its meaning in his column this week. 

Precocious kid. 

While heading for the kitchen, I blurted out “it stands for Unrealistic Financial Observations”.  Not bad, I thought to myself since I am minutes away from sipping my first coffee or first weekend Mimosa today. 

“What does that mean”?  She pressed on. 

“When people see things they cannot identify or believe in things that aren’t really there; that’s a UFO”; using my best Jim Anderson, “Father Knows Best” imitation. 

“Daddy, why do people believe in UFO’s?”  Maybe I should skip the coffee and go straight to the Mimosa, I thought. 

“Well, pumpkin, sometimes people talk themselves into believing thoughts as real events and experiences, even though they are not.”  Remember when you were small and you thought monsters might be under you bed at night.  You convinced yourself it was true.  I would lay down with you until you fell asleep.  Remember?” 

“Yes, but I was just a baby, then.  Now, I am older.  I know better than to believe in monsters.  So, do you mean UFO’s are like the green shoots that Larry Ludlow and Mellissa Francis go on and on about every day on CNBC’s The Call?” 

“Yes, honey; exactly!  Perhaps, you can fire off an email to the show’s producer and bring to their attention.” 

(I cannot get this child to watch Nickelodeon.) 

“Daddy, does President Obama believe in UFO’s?”  Do I really need the extra calories orange juice adds to a Mimosa - I think to myself? 

“Some days he does; some days he does not.  On the days he is pandering for additional funding from congress, he is not a believer.” 

Am I making my kid too cynical at too young of age?  Maybe, I am being a poor parent.  Oh well, at least I have earned dos Mimosas this morning. 

“Daddy, do you think the feds will end quantitative easing this year?”

“That’s enough”, I said.  Put down my Barron’s, and go outside and schedule a play-date with the other children in the neighborhood.  You’re too young to be discussing the Federal Reserve monetary policy and macroeconomics – and on a Saturday morning”. 

As she was walking out of the kitchen door, she turned around and with a big smile asked “Daddy, want do you want for Father’s Day, tomorrow?” 

What else could I say, and with a wink, I replied; “Pumpkin, you’ve already given daddy the best gift ever – you don’t believe in green shoots."

That's my little girl.

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