Little pitchers!

There is a rumor that I have referred to Charlie the Dog as a jackass. I can neither confirm nor deny this rumor, though justification is entirely clear after his poor decisions regarding the consumption of dirty diapers. Be that as it may, BC heard the word *somewhere*, and has made it a part of her vocabulary. Of course.

As my mother and father drove BC home to spend the night with them, a holder of the public trust -- who shall remain unnamed -- came on the radio and was fabricating about something. Both she and he grumbled, and BC piped up from her car seat, "He's a jackass!" Mother clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh, and Dad spoke affirmingly of BC's assessment. Mom said, "We don't want to encourage this." But BC chirped, "I want to encourage it!"

The next day, she was being wheeled around the neighborhood by her father just as the substitute mailman drove up. We like him. We do not care for our regular mail person because she routinely leaves our mailbox stuffed to the brim and gaping open in the rain. The above appellation may have been applied to her as well. But when the mailman got out of the car, he bent down and waved at BC and smiled warmly. In a perfectly adult tone, BC turned around in the stroller to address her father: "He doesn't look like a jackass." Matt doesn't think the mailman heard her, and he quickly said, "You shouldn't say that!" She paused, and then said, "He's a doofus." Ah, yes. Much more politic.