I knows what I knows

Nigel stomps into the house, a toy hyena held tight in his mittened hands. Yes, a hyena. Fluffy bunnies and darling little teddies are passe. What we have here is a scale-model representation of a slavering hyena.

“What have you got there, Nigel?” Because Mary is nothing if not polite, and there is no such thing as squeamishness in the pursuit of science. We like spiders around here, too. And bugs. And snakes. We talk a lot about snot and pee and farts and spit and poop, too, though perhaps with less overt enthusiasm. Well, mine is less overt, anyway, though I do confess to the occasional awed and morbid fascination. “My LORD, that’s the greenest poo I’ve ever SEEN.”

“It’s a leopard.”

“Well, no, Nigel, it’s not. A leopard is more like a cat, and a hyena is more like a dog. They both have spots, but a leopard is longer and hunts its own food. A hyena is smaller and mostly eats stuff that’s already dead.” Nigel looks at me, deadpan. His face radiates complete lack of interest. Clearly the boy is just waiting for me to shut the $%# up. I change tactics.

“Well, thank you for bringing it to share with us. What’s its name?”

“Its name is Leopard.”