Fasteners are all alike

The Miss Talksalot I mentioned earlier, well, she is also Miss Listensalot. I am going to have to come up with some serious code so I can go on having phone conversations in her presence. She is constantly asking whom I'm talking about, or why I said "Oh," sounding sad, or what I meant by something. I'm sure the other person I'm talking to is delighted by my frequent interruptions for explanation, analysis, or distraction. I do suspect that the other person is frequently amused by the whitewashing (or, let's face it, blatant untruthtelling) I have to do. Today, though, we had an exceptionally good laugh. I was talking to my mother and made some tongue-in-cheek comment about being screwed up by wacky parenting. Rachel asked who was screwed up, and when I declined to answer, she went back to reading her book about butterflies. Then, a minute or two later, she remembered that I hadn't answered and asked "Why did you say someone is getting nailed together?" What? "You said someone is getting nailed up. Why did you say that?" Hmmm. Ah, yes. Nailed together! Screwed up! Another little peek into the development of the three-year-old brain. Amazing. Amusing, too.