Wicked

"Whoa, awesome," Justice said this morning as we drove to her daycare. "That tank is spraying that water with pressure."

I glanced through the passenger-side window to see a large construction water-tanker indeed spraying water over the dirt to keep the dust down.

I smiled.

I didn't smile because it was funny, but rather because, to Justice, the sense of wonder about the world is still reasonably fresh. Of course, Justice can find awe in a pencil.

"Awesome, this pencil is shiny!"

Everything to Justice is awesome.

Equally fortunate, very little is bogus.

It might be "not fair" or "uhhhnnn" when she doesn't like it, like . . . doing her chores. But she has yet to descend into the infernals of "bogus" descriptives.

I'm not certain if this is because Justice just hasn't seen that much of the world. Last year, either for Thanksgiving or Christmas (poor memory . . . no need to point it out) Justice nearly froze to death. She is, as she can proudly state, a California Girl. Of course, this is the same child who thinks that Europe is a city, and that France is a state.

It might be a state of mind, but I think the French would prefer their country be labeled as such. On the other hand, who really cares if we offend the French. Walt Disney World in France has enough security to occupy the country, and the next time they get out of line, it's gonna be a Small World After All when we annex France as our 51st state and ban smoking!

I'm sure they'll still sneer down at us with their uppity French accents, but it won't be nearly as cool in their silly berrets withouth a cigarette dangling from pouty lips.

But I digress.

So there is Justice, all amazed at this water-tanker pouring out water, and me smiling. Lovely morning, even with those silly Frenchies sneering at us.