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Thursday, May 6, 2010

Word Rodeo

So we're driving through one of those dark, narrow parking decks with small arrow signs pointing us in directions that they don't appear quite committed to. Those signs reserve the right to change their mind when a car comes through the maze in the opposite direction.

Out loud, I say to myself, "It's hard to maneuver a car in here," to which my young daughter responds, "What does maneuver mean?"

Her brother, only slightly older than her but adamant about exerting his intellectual dominance, replies, before I can, because I'm winding my way up the tower of Babel in the wrong direction, "It means poop."

Now, while he desires to crush his sister like a brainless bug under the sole of his intelligence, he also loves to fit in potty talk whenever he can. "No it doesn't," I correct, still peering through the dark for a parking space.

"Uh-huh," he insists, "I've heard you and Daddy talk about cow maneuver; how y'all are going to put cow maneuver on the garden."

"Honey, you mean manure. Cow manure."

"I do?" he asks, surprised. "Then what is cow maneuver."

"It's what they do at rodeos."

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