You can know anything. It's all there. You just have to find it.

-Neil Gaiman


Monday, October 10, 2011

The post in which I am verbally burned by an eight year-old.

I am outside, walking around watering flowers, dressed like I usually am when working in the yard, which I like to call, "mentally disturbed sporty hobo chic".

The neighbor girl Lily runs into the yard.

Lily: Can Sena play?

Me: She's still sleeping, but she should be up from her nap soon.

Lily: Why are you wearing socks with your sandals?

Me: Well, I had on my tennis shoes.  Then I took them off.  Then I put my sandals on because I didn't want to walk around in my socks.

I don't say I was too lazy to bend over to stuff my running shoes back on.  The way I am dressed sort of implies "laziness".

Lily:  That's weird.

Me: Socks with sandals?

Lily: Yeah.

Me: Well, some people wear socks with sandals.

Lily: Who?

Me: They're called Europeans.

Lily: We call them something different here.

Me: What?

Lily: Dorks.

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