M. thinks that she is the first person in history to experience much of what she does, so she frequently explains it to me. "We had a fire drill today." "Ah." "That's when you practice what you would do if there was a real fire." "Yes."
So last night she brought me one of the last candies in her trick-or-treat bag, a packet of plain M&Ms. "Could you open this for me?" As I opened it, she said, "These are soooo good." I tried the same technique I use with adults who are telling me what I already know, to the same no avail. "Yes, aren't they?" "They have chocolate inside," she explained, "and crunchy colored shells on the outside." "I like the peanut ones even better," I flailed. "And they have little Ws on them," she added.
"Actually, they're Ms, M."
"Yes." As gently as I knew how, "That's why they're called M and Ms."
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