The Restaurateur


What follows is a snippet of a conversation I had this morning with Lauryn, after I so casually asked “Whatcha thinkin’ about?” (I use the term “conversation” very loosely, in that she was doing 99.9% of the talking):

“Well.  I’ve decided I’m not going to be a cheerleader when I grow up.  I can’t do the splits.  I’ve tried but it’s too hard and it hurts.  So, I am going to own a candy store.  Not just a store that sells candy though.  Like, it will have tables and chairs and a waitress and be a real restaurant.  It will have a menu for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, but on the menu will be candy, candy, CANDY! Candy for every meal. [pause]  And I guess it can have spaghetti, too.”

She elaborates a bit more with talk about chocolate bars and fruit-flavored candy canes, and I finally say, “Neat. So you want to be the owner of a candy restaurant!”

She sighs and says, “‘Owner’?  Were you even listening?  I didn’t say anything about a dog….why did you say ‘owner’?  

Vocabulary lessons spring up in the most unusual ways.  Today’s lesson:  “owner” is not always tied to “dog” as in “dog owner”.  She was astounded at this information.

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