What if you really do have two left feet? Maybe you got a foot transplant and the doctors screwed up. We must be careful with our insults.
Watch Out, Donald Trump
Me: Happy Birthday, Kat! You’re six! You know what this means, don’t you? It means you have to get a job.
Kat: Oh.
Me: You have to start earning your keep. What are you going to do?
Kat: I guess . . . I guess I could have a lemonade stand.
Me: Good idea. You have to sell a lot of lemonade, though.
Kat: Or I could own a hotel.
Me: Hmm . . . How old are you again?
Unprompted Declarations
On a lazy Sunday afternoon, there’s not much better than hearing your five-year-old spontaneously tell you that she loves you. Of course, it could have been buying her an ice cream cone that prompted it, but I’ll take what I can get. It’s not buying someone’s affection if you didn’t plan on it, is it?
Santa Claus, Literary Criticism, and Other Myths
If a writer gives you a story and asks for your honest opinion, he doesn’t really want your honest opinion. Actually, he does want your honest opinion, but only if it begins with the words, “This is the best story I’ve read in my life . . .” Or, slightly more risky, the opinion could be modified with “one of the best stories,” which while not preferred is at least acceptable. Otherwise, no, he doesn’t want your honest opinion. If you have to lie, that’s all right. We lie to children about Santa Claus. Telling writers what you think of their work is sort of in the same category. You should be spreading hope and good cheer. You don’t want to take Santa Claus away from a writer, do you? That’s a very crummy thing to do.