Feisty Repartee

Elections

Sometime last summer the girls and I, with dogs in tow, visited my parents. Both of our dogs were male and both of my parents' dogs were male, as well.

Shortly after we arrived, there was much canine activity with sniffing, posturing, bristling, and growling. The smaller of my parents' dogs and our little Riley (the terrierist) ended up in a tussle.

Wee One was upset with the ferocity of the scuffle, but my father told her not to worry because they were just "holding an election."

Last night Wee One was watching a program in the living room when Sweet One came in and unceremoniously, without word or glance, changed the channel. Wee One started to protest when Sweet One told her: "You've been watching what you want all evening, it's my turn."

Wee One was not happy. She stood up, glared at Sweet One, and said: "You are not always going to be bigger than me."

Some twenty minutes later, Sweet One was still lying on the couch watching television. Wee One snuck up behind her sister then launched herself up, over the couch and onto Sweet One. With small hands, she latched onto the thick hair on Sweet One's very tender head.

At the sound of Sweet One's shrill screams for help, I came in and demanded: "WHAT IS GOING ON?!"

Still hanging onto her sister's hair as she sat on her stomach, Wee One looked up and merely said: "We are holding an election."

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