little pitchers and big ears

I hate him! I look up startled. She's never said that before and I'm surprised. Baby, I say. Hate is a really strong word. Are you sure you mean hate? Yes.

Honey, hate is not a nice word. You can not like someone, but hate is for really important things. Like broccoli? she says and starts cracking up.

I'm serious, M. Do you ever hear mommy or daddy say we hate people? Smugly, I sit and wait. I am at once Mother Teresa and the Dalai Lama. We are not the kind who speaks of hate.

Yes mommy. You hate John McCain.

Shit. As I simultaneously scan recent memory and and also realize this is now blog fodder I am silent for a minute while J ever calmly says Mommy might not agree with John McCain's ideas but she doesn't hate him. I think it over. He's right, I don't hate that guy. Even if I cannot stand to look at him right now, I don't actually hate him. But I am not sure I can say the same for his sidekick. I'm actually not sure, she might actually turn me into a hater. I don't think I've said it out loud but sometimes I can't help but yell at the TV.

No matter, she's busted me all the same.