This morning, Underdog picked an empty diet pepsi bottle up off the floor and put it back into the jumbled mound of returnables that's waiting to be taken back to the store. She looked at me and said, "You know, these really need to be put in some sort of container so we're not tripping over them all the time." I looked up and offered, "Good idea."
She gave me The Look.
Unable to respond with a Look of my own (I think it's a gendered ability), I said, "I think at least one of those bottles in there is a diet coke bottle that you left on the counter last week."
Underdog looked down at the scattered empties, then back at me. I said, "I don't need actual evidence; I just need to create a credible possibility of evidence." I smelled victory when she rolled her eyes and opened the door. "I have a degree in rhetoric!" I gloated.
She paused, stepped back into the room, and kicked the bottles all over the front hall. "My degree in bitch beats your degree in rhetoric," she explained, then went back outside.
(Our daughter thought this was so funny she didn't complain when I made her pick up all the bottles and put them in a bag.)
Posted by johndan at December 24, 2004 01:46 PM | TrackBackRemind me not to tell Allan about the obvious comeback to "I have a degree in rhetoric!," since I use that line (probably too) frequently.
Posted by: Erin at December 24, 2004 05:08 PM