This morning in Market Square, as I sat at an outdoor table sipping a pumpkin coffee from Dunkin’ Donuts with my three-year-old donut-munching daughter, she spied a pigeon walking toward her.
Me: “Yep. It’s a bird.” [internal eyeroll at myself for not having the balls to say, “Yep. It’s a minion of the devil, possibly computerized, definitely evilized, likely up to something. Would you like to get down and kick it so hard its motherboard shatters?”]
Her: “No, that’s not a bird; that’s a pigeon.”
She already KNOWS THAT PIGEONS AREN’T BIRDS! She already knows they are computer-programmed minions of Satan.
I haven’t been so proud of my abilities as a mom since that time I caught my kid reading my Calvin and Hobbes books.