After being interrupted by my 8 year old daughter in a grown-up conversation in the car for the 827th time this week, I told her to stop asking me questions about conversations that she was not involved with.
"Didn't you used to ask your parents questions about their conversations when you didn't understand?" she asked accusingly, as if she might jog the recesses of my age addled brain and spark me to recapture an elusive childhood memory through her experience. I informed her that I never had the habit of asking my parents to explain their conversations to me. I never would have had the nerve, frankly.
"Well," Miss Rachel proclaimed from the backseat after a short pause, "I'm different."
Yes, indeed she is.
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