Casey, my nine year old grand niece, became pretty adamant (without becoming belligerent or at all disrespectful) when I called Sylvester (my African Grey parrot) a "bird brain" this past weekend. Casey insisted that what I called him wasn't a very nice thing to say. I agreed, then added, "but when I call a bird a bird brain, it's accurate." She said, "No, it isn't."
I guess that's what makes kids so endearing. When something is wrong, it's just plain wrong, every time, all the time. "Bird brain" is a slur to her. I'm glad about that. Very glad.
I guess she has to be a little older before she understands the difference between calling a bird "a bird brain" and calling another human being "a bird brain."
And that's all right with me. It makes me love her even more.
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