So You Are a Star. Okay.

Gert comes running off the bus through the chilly rain yesterday with a big grin on her face. When we got home, we had the following conversation.

"Dad," she says, "I have a problem."

"What's that?"

"Well, I'm Student of the Week and my wiener balloon popped."

"Wait. What? You're Student of the Week?"

"Yeah. And my wiener balloon POPPED," she said holding up a limp, dead balloon animal.

"I'm sorry," I said. "But you're Student of the Week! That's fantastic!"

"Yeah, only my WEINER BALLOON POPPED. I got the balloon and this toy and a coupon for a movie."

"That's great," I said. "I'm so proud of you that you're Student of the Week! You must feel very happy."

"Happy? That my wiener balloon popped?"

"No, that you're Student of the Week."

"But my wiener balloon POPPED!"

"I know," I said, "but--"

"I don't know if it had a hole, or a leak, or what. But right before I got on the bus, my wiener balloon popped."

"Yeah, I'm sorry to hear that. But you're Student of the Week! That's fantastic, I'm so proud of you."

"Yeah, only my wiener balloon popped."

"I know, but--"

"My wiener balloon popped. That's the problem."

"And you're Student of the Week!"

"I really don't want to talk about this anymore," she said, as she gathered up her dead balloon and left the room.

"But you're Student of the Week!"

"And my WEINER BALLOON POPPED!"

She's still Student of the Week. I think I'm allowed to be proud.