Dorothy is interested in nicknames. She is tickled beyond measure that her cousin Maggie is really named Margaret. "Do you think her sister Mary Claire knows that?" she asked.
Dorothy's teacher was talking about patterns, and she encouraged the kids to use objects at home to make patterns. She said, "You could make patterns with anything, like beads if you have some." "WAIT," Dorothy said to me, eyes wide, "some people don't have beads?!"
I love it when Dorothy gets words wrong. Her class does a little song that names foods, including, apparently, "petsaroni pizza". (This might be because we don't eat much pepperoni; then again, we don't eat many pets.)
Dorothy was playing around with a broom and told me that it was her broom's birthday. "Oh, that's cute," I said. "How old is your broom?" "Two and a half," Dorothy informed me.
Our washing machine is a little off-balance, and when it thumps it sounds like someone is knocking at the door, which fools us occasionally. This morning the washing machine thumped, and in these Corona times, Dorothy announced with relief, "At least that wasn't friends!"