Wit and wisdom of a naughty girl (part 5 of a 586-part series)

The Naughty Girl is in such an amazing, glorious phase that it seems churlish to keep joking about her naughtiness. (Here's a paraphrase from an e-mail she dictated to me while she was away: "Daddy! I love you so much my head is going to fall off!") However, she retains a certain amount of... let's say, sass. Her pre-school teacher babysat last night and reported the following two vignettes:

1) T. and B. about to have a pillowfight. The equipment is set, the ground rules established, and the bell is about to go off, when T. pauses proceedings to crack and re-crack her knuckles with a sort of exaggerated theatricality and relish you'd expect from a professional wrestling match, not a little girl's bedtime. (If she had a long, waxed mustache, she would have twirled that for good measure.) We didn't even know she knew how to crack her knuckles.

2) It's the last few days of pre-school, and all the rules are relaxed, so two little boys who love to wrestle are given special dispensation to mix it up during a field trip to a nearby farm. T., intrigued by what's going on, sort of strolls up as things are breaking up and says, "I might like to wrestle." One boy, the hockey player, immediately runs away. The other is more game -- sadly, though, my silky-haired, blue-eyed little cherub improvises some sort of deadly hammerlock and has him on the ground in seconds. The match is promptly, and mercifully, called.