Today Leah was sketching on her magna-doodle when Daddy came home for lunch. She was eager to show him her masterpiece, and went immediately to his side.
Here, Daddy, look.
What is this sweetie?
It's my picture.
Oh. (Sometimes that explanation isn't quite enough, and you have to ask more specific questions in order to understand what exactly you are looking at, and whether you should be amazed, afraid, awed, or pleased.) What exactly is it?
Here I chimed in with: It's a pig.
A pig? Oh, I see. Nice pig, Leah. Is this its crew cut? (For indeed the forward facing pig face, made by two concentric circles and a couple of nostril-sized dots in the smaller one, had a rather strange gathering of short lines coming straight out of the top of its head.)
No, that's a cooker hat.
Ahhh, you mean a toke.
Uh huh. (This was said with the degree of enthusiasm given to choosing what fragrance of bug spray you are going to buy to rid your home of that ant infestation.)
And what is this down here? (Christopher was pointing to a comparatively tiny box upon which the forward facing, crew cut/toke wearing piglet was sitting).
Uh, that's just the oven. It's getting cooked.
Yeah. It is a cook pigger.