After dinner walk
“What does that mean?” Brenna asked when I used the word “nincompoop” (I think a muttered self-reference about my marshmallow toasting).
“Someone whose brain doesn’t work right,” I explained.
Later when she heard me complain about whoever on the other side of the lake was running a generator non-stop she asked, “do their brains not work right?”
I liked the connection. “I don’t think so, bub.”
After dinner I thought it would be nice to walk around the lake and perhaps glance condescendingly at the folks who needed to run a generator all afternoon among the otherwise quiet mountains.