When I was little, if I was a bit too smart, my father’s relatives would call me a hairpin. I’m not sure whether that is unique to Cork or unique to them. It came to my mind when I discovered that the Princess has made a complete list of all of her Halloween loot which she is carefully checking against the remaining items every morning. No unauthorised mini malteaser packs for me.
In other hairpiness, consider this.
Me: Would you like a grape?
Michael: No, you know I don’t like grapes.
Herself: It’s hard for Mum to remember because we spend far more time every day with school and the childminder combined than we do with her.
And this example of metahairpiness.
Her: NabloPoMo is so hard.
Me: Why do you say that?
Her: I have to keep thinking of witty things to say so that you can write about them.
I await the teenage years with interest.
