6 + 7

I vaguely heard the knock on our bedroom door this morning, then the pad of gentle footsteps across the floor.

"Mom," my son said from beside my side of the bed, "Could you hold up six fingers?" I drowsily complied. He stood there a moment, counting to 13. "Thanks," he said. More footsteps across the floor. The door closed.

The scene soon repeated itself, with him asking me to hold up a different number of fingers.

I asked my husband what time it was. It was around 6 a.m. My husband informed me that our son had aroused him earlier to ask if he could go downstairs and get his Cars math workbook.

He knocked on our door several more times over the next half hour, each time asking me to hold up a different number of fingers and adding some of his own fingers to come up with a different sum. Each time he left the room, he told me I could put my fingers down.

Just call me sleeping human abacus.