‘Dad,’ she asked me, ‘how do you spell psychopath?’
I pondered for a moment. ‘P-s-y-c-h-o…’
‘No, it’s c-h-o-.’
‘Oh, okay, c-h-o…’
‘P-a-t-h. That’s great, thank you.’ She went back to tapping away at her iPhone and I continued preparing dinner. We worked in silence for a time both lost in our own activities.
‘Dad, are there two t‘s in pratt, or just one?’
I assured her that there are two. I had a lot on my mind that day, bills to pay, projects due, so I really wasn’t paying much attention until her next question.
‘Dad, what about asinine? One s or two?’
That made me pause, for a couple of reasons. One, I actually wasn’t sure of how many s’s to use. More importantly, I began to wonder what my fourteen year old daughter was up to. They were all potentially quite insulting words to be using.
‘Those are all kinda weird words, I hope you’re not being nasty to someone.’
‘Oh no,’ she assured me. ‘Just chatting to a friend.’
‘Strange chat. What’s it about?’
‘Oh nothing,’ she answered dismissively. ‘So… asinine?’
‘Two s’s, I think.’
‘Thanks.’ Tap, tap, tap. ‘How long until dinner?’