We had a fabulous time celebrating our 8-year-old friend Hailstorm's birthday Sunday out at the tide pools near Bolinas, but we were toast. Loads and loads of sun and adventure and friendship and laughter. [Gratuitous pictures to be posted for Wordy Wednesday. Make sure you stay away that day. Consider yourself warned.]
Back home, eating dinner, the conversation somehow winds its way to dogs. Specifically, I happen to defend the death of Old Yeller because he had rabies.
Daughter looks puzzled. "I thought Old Yeller was a boy," she says.
"He was," I reply.
"But you can't have babies unless you're a girl," she points out.
I don't know what made me laugh more: that she thought I said Old Yeller was put down because he had babies or that she was so nonchalant and accepting of it. Either way, her mishearing, something which typically makes me sad, provides me with some chuckles from time to time.
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