Late this evening, while I was fixing dinner, my daughter came up to me and asked, "How do you spell 'id'?"
I said, "That's not a word."
"Yes," she whispered back. "I'm trying to spell idiot."
Apparently she was writing a note, tattling on her brother because he called his brother's friend an idiot for parking in the driveway, keeping me from getting in the garage.
Later, while watching The Biggest Loser weigh-in, her brother commented that one of the guys had lost ten pounds and that was pretty good. (The guys weigh in shirtless.)
"Yeah," little sister commented. "But he still looks like he could breastfeed."
I'm guessing her future career won't involve having to spell or being a life-coach. We'll take those options off the table.
I said, "That's not a word."
"Yes," she whispered back. "I'm trying to spell idiot."
Apparently she was writing a note, tattling on her brother because he called his brother's friend an idiot for parking in the driveway, keeping me from getting in the garage.
Later, while watching The Biggest Loser weigh-in, her brother commented that one of the guys had lost ten pounds and that was pretty good. (The guys weigh in shirtless.)
"Yeah," little sister commented. "But he still looks like he could breastfeed."
I'm guessing her future career won't involve having to spell or being a life-coach. We'll take those options off the table.
No comments:
Post a Comment