There is a long-standing argument in our home about whether the word crayon is pronounced cray-on or crown and what happens to baby kittens when one of us pronounces it the wrong way (they die, the baby kittens). Last night while I was preparing dinner (burritos manufactured by the lovely people who stock the frozen food section at my grocery store) Jon turned on one of the five episodes of “Sesame Street” we have stored on the TiVo to stop the screaming. I can’t concentrate on the microwave buttons with all the screaming.
The episode he chose had been previously stopped right as Elmo was about to afflict the screen with his third-person-speaking hysterics, so when he pressed play we were serenaded by the Elmo’s World song: “Elmo loves his goldfish, his cray-ons, too. Thaaaaaat’s Elmo’s Wooooooorld!”
“Did you hear that!” Jon yelled from the living room. “CRAY-ONS! Elmo pronounces it right.”
“You mean to tell me that you’re siding with Elmo on this one?”
After an exaggerated hesitation he admitted, “Yes, I am. I am siding with Elmo.”
I blinked out loud and then said, “Pardon Heather if she is NOT THOROUGHLY CONVINCED.”