Scene: Work.  Characters: Me, the department director, and the Director’s Adorable Eight-Year Old Daughter (D.A.E.Y.O.D.)

DAEYOD: (pointing at me) Who’s that?

DIRECTOR: That’s Greg.

DAEYOD: What does he do?

DIRECTOR: He’s the Word Monkey.

(I snicker and turn to talk to someone else.  I am interrupted by a gentle tapping.  I turn around, and DAEYOD is staring up at me with saucer-like eyes.)

DAEYOD: If you’re the Word Monkey, what does “supercalifragilisticexpialidocious” mean?

ME: I don’t know, but I do know that the sound of it is really quite atrocious.

(DAEYOD collapses into giggles and starts playing with juggling balls.)

ME: (hopes scene doesn’t eventually become traumatic childhood memory when she realizes that she never received an answer to her question)