Earlier today, I sat at a table at the café right down the street. At the table next to me a mother was reading the newspaper as her daughter, I’d age her at about six, was swinging her legs, kicking her mom’s chair. Her mom didn’t react. The girl said, “Mommy, what is air made of?” Without looking up, the mother said, “Nitrogen and Oxygen,” and the girl stopped kicking mommy’s chair.
I worked in a tea house with a decent sound system in the center of campus in college and my favorite thing to do was early Monday morning, I’d play Carmina Burana as loud as it would go.
I wonder if this ever happens:
“Honey, does this dress make me look fat?”
“Yes. That dress makes you look fat.”