My father’s secretary was visibly distraught one morning when she arrived at the office and explained that her children’s parrot had escaped from his cage and flown out an open window. Of all the dangers the tame bird would face outdoors alone, she seemed most concerned about what would happen if the bird started talking.
Confused, my father asked what the parrot could say. “Well,” she explained, “he mostly says, ‘Here, kitty, kitty, kitty.’”
I should have known better than to take my four-year-old son shopping with me. I spent the entire time in the mall chasing after him. Finally, I’d had it.
"Do you want a stranger to take you?!" I scolded.
Thrilled, he yelled back, "That depends, will HE take me to the zoo?"