On the way to the barber I spy a scene that is fit for Monty Python.
A 6 year-old girl is standing outside her front gate with a spritzer in hand. She is on her haunches, dedicatedly spritzing something on the street in front of her gate. Only when I draw close do I realize what it is: a piece of dog shit.
Her face suddenly looks guilty as I draw near and see what she’s doing, but I won’t say anything. In fact I have to stifle a smile and a giggle.
What does she imagine she’s doing anyway? Watering it so it grows?