In Evie’s class at school they were doing a competition to list all the words they could think of that started with the letter ‘A’.
After they were finished the teacher said, “Everybody who listed five words, raise your hand.” All of the children raised their hands. “Did anybody get six words?” she continued. Some of the hands went down. “How about seven words?” On and on she went until there were only two remaining, Evie and another girl. “And how many did you get?” asked the teacher. “Fifteen,” replied the first girl. “And you Evelyn?” asked the teacher. “Forty-eight,” replied Evie, smug as a bug in a rug.
“You can tell she’s my daughter,” said Sara, the ultimate Boggle champion, with a predatory gleam in her eye. (Pardon me, PENULTIMATE Boggle champion, am I right Anna?) Did I ever tell you about the time we played Boggle on a camping trip and Sara beat me, a journalism major, and the smartest guy I know with a score higher than the rest of us combined?
“How many did [an English as a second language girl in Evie’s class] get?” asked Sara. “She got six,” said Evie. “That’s great! Good for her, she got more than five!” said Sara. Evie said grumpily, “It’s her parents job to be proud of her. You can be proud of me.”
Yup, just like her mama.