The Art of the Deal

At the park Kathleen was ready to leave, but the other kids were still playing. So I told her we would leave in 15 minutes. She counter offered 1 minute. I came down to 7 minutes. She came up to 5. I suggested that we split the difference at 6 minutes. She refused, insisting on 5 minutes. So I made her a deal. I agreed that in one minute I would accept her offer of 5 minutes. She counted to sixty and we struck the deal.

It took her till after we were back home to figure out my subterfuge. She is so angry that she is crying and insisting that her mother come up with a punishment for me.

I may have ruined Thanksgiving.

Our little sailor

Lucy has been learning about bad language recently. Last week there was a discussion with mom about the use of the middle finger as a means of communication. Jennifer told her that it was like a bad word. But when Lucy asked exactly what it meant, Jennifer demurred.

Today Lucy was listening to a Lady Gaga song that raised further questions. She just turned to me and asked: “What does bitch mean?”

“Well,” I replied, “It’s a bad word.”

So Lucy raised her middle finger and asked: “Does bitch mean the same thing as this?”

I about fell out of my chair.

lucy