While stealing some quiet time to read a book yesterday morning, my daughter wanted me to play with her. Selfishly, I told her that we'd play later but for now I just wanted to read my book. Ever the persistent little girl, she asked me to read my book to her. It was E. B. White's wonderful Here is New York. Struggling to maintain my quiet time while not coming off as rude to my young princess, I spoke but paused in the wrong place, giving her the perfect opening to, well, make me laugh.
I began, "No honey. I can't read to you now. I just don't..."
She finished, "You don't know the words?"
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