Source: oneword.com (a while ago)
"What are you doing?" she asked all quiet, coming and kneeling all close to me.
"'s a rocket," I tell her, adding a little more red to the fiery boosters.
"Oh," she said in her grown-up voice. "That's really neat, where's it going?"
I shrugged, wishing she would go away. Grown-ups just don't understand rockets. Rockets don't have to go nowhere, they just shoot fire out of their boosters.
"Is it going to fly to the moon?" she asked, still using her grown-up voice.
I shrugged again. Why would it want to go to the moon? The moon is just big and white and boring. She sat there like she didn't know what to say, just watching me color the fire. I switched to orange. Fire's not all the way red.
"You're really good at drawing," she said.
I sighed and put my crayon down on the little table. I couldn't concentrate with her talking at me like I was a little kid. I stood up and went outside to play.