Crazy Crap Item #228: The part where Miles waxes authoritative

If there's one thing I truly enjoy, it's the capacity of small children to completely make crap up on the fly, then explain it to you with an air of certainty, authority, and -- yes -- condescension that I can't seem to muster even when I know what I'm talking about.

To whit, young Miles on the topic of dinosaurs. Miles, four-years-old, is son to Mimi and Amanda and brother to the floppy-curled two-year-old Nolan. They reside on the dreaded 1400 block, but we try not to hold it against them, as they are so delightful.

Miles is a very serious young man. A greeting usually gains reciprocation by way of a very sober, non-gaze-meeting and highly formal "hello." It generally takes a good hour or so for Miles to respond to teasing with anything but puzzlement.

Thus, from Miles, I've come to expect "just the facts." It was in keeping with this general tenor that Miles sought to educate me on the topic of dinosaurs.

"This is diplodocus," Miles intoned with an air of matter-of-fact sobriety as he waved a plastic dinosaur figure at me. "He's a plant-eater. His teeth are short and dull."

I nodded and repeated the fact several times.

Later, he returned to the topic.

"This is T.rex. He's a meat-eater."

"Oh, does he eat ham sandwiches?" I inquired.

"No," Miles replied with furrowed brow. "Hes a meat eater."

"But ham is a meat," I reasoned. "Doesn't he eat ham sandwiches."

"NO," Miles asserted, with a touch of impatience. "He doesn't eat ham."

"But why wouldn't he eat ham? Ham is a meat."

With nary a pause and a tone of certainty, Miles replied, "He only eats skin meat."

I am schooled.