Out of the mouths of…
Tuesday, March 11th, 2008
I think I’ve told you all about my youngest daughter. She’s the 12 year old who wants to be the coroner or medical examiner. Or a surgeon. She just hasn’t decided whether she wants to cut into people who are dead or people who are alive.
Ahem. Yeah. We call her Dexter around here. It used to be because of Dexter’s Laboratory. Now? Huh–let’s just say I had to snort when I first watched an episode of Dexter–about the serial killer.
Not that my kid is in any way violent. She’s just incredibly cerebral. Likes figuring things out. The kind of kid who’s so smart she scares you Well, she certainly scares my father. When she was about 9, he looked at me and said, “I just don’t get that kid,” and I said, “Dad, it’s because she’s smarter than you are.” And he agreed.
Anyway, brains notwithstanding, she’s also got this incredibly cutting sense of humor. Very dry. She doesn’t let the zingers fly the way the middle daughter does, but she gets off a good one every now and then. Like last week, we were at a car dealership (yay! Bruce finally got rid of the p.o.s.!) And for some reason she and her sister were goofing off, one of them pretended to punch a wall, and Bruce said, “I did that once. Punch a wall. It hurts.”
And youngest, entirely deadpan, replies, “Oh. Because you had to live with Mom-Mom?”
(Those of you who have been around for my m-i-l stories will probably really understand why that slew me!)
