"What's the knotty problem?" I asked him.
"They call the Mississippi the 'Father of waters,'" he said, "and I
think it ought to be the 'Mother of waters.'"
"Correct, my son," I said, admiringly.
"Is Missouri the daughter of Mississippi then?" he asked.
I'm afraid I have much to answer for.
And think of it, that boy only nine years old.
What will become of us when he breaks loose at man's estate?
Just this morning he astonished me by declaring the dictionary was only
an old joke book after all.