Conversations with my 7-year-old.
“Hey! You bifurcated my pop tart.”
I look up from my coffee. “Oh.”
“Do you know what that means?”
I really wish I did but, in truth, I don’t and so I say
that. “No, I don't.”
“It means you broke it in a little part here and a huge part
here. It's split.” He points to the bifurcated bits of pastry. “Look—it’s totally uneven!”
“I see that. Sorry.”
“It’s just that you usually bisect it into even parts, like,
in half.”
I just look at him, my mind whirring, thinking that the next
chance I get I’m going to bolt out of my chair, run to my computer, and google “bifurcate”. I have no
idea what to say. He doesn’t seem all that upset. I just say “sorry” again. I haven't had my coffee and it's all I can say.
“It’s okay. It’s just weird. But, hey!” He holds the larger
piece up to me and says, “The bigger part looks exactly like Nevada!”
It really does.
