Well, Miss O has upped the contrarian factor exponentially. Tonight, at bedtime, she told me that I was pronouncing her name wrong.
I wouldn't be surprised if, tomorrow, she tells me that I was adopted.
Oh, I just remembered a classic moment from yesterday, as we were all walking home from the library. We had gotten a bunch of books, one, a cartoon-y, kids book about the facts of life. I was walking along with Miss O, the slowest walker in the goddamn universe, when I overheard Mr. Z, who was thumbing through said book, ask the Old Lady, "Mom, what do testicles taste like?"
Hey, at least he asked someone who'd know.