The other day, Maggie and I went shopping. We stopped at an outdoor mall, and she looked around. “White House Black Market? That’s a dumb name for a store,” she told me.
“It is? Why is that?” I had never really thought about it much.
“Well, the White House is in Washington, DC, and that is NOWHERE near here. Doesn’t the naming person know that?”
A few seconds later…
“BANANA REPUBLIC??! Now that is a REALLY dumb name! I bet they don’t sell bananas in there. Who names these stores? Why do they have such dumb names?”
I tried hard not to laugh, tried hard to come up with a reason and tried hard to make it into the parking spot.
Then we shopped. As we were leaving a store, Maggie found another dumb thing. “Mom, there was a shirt in there that said, ‘My heart belongs to daddy’ and that is dumb. I’d never wear that shirt. My heart doesn’t belong to daddy.”
Thinking I was about to get a compliment, I asked, “Who does your heart belong to?”
“My heart belongs to ME. ONLY ME. Its mine and it belongs to me. No one else can own it. Even if someone else wanted it, it is still mine because I’m mine. ALL mine.”
That Maggie, she’s not dumb.
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