Not Just Any Rogues, but Rogues with Yellow Hair

Saturday, we made he journey into the (relatively) big city to visit the Children's Museum, and on the way back to the car, Daniel decided to lag. Being cut of the same cloth as my namesake, and with the parking meter about to run out, I decided to keep up the pace to the car - still within sight of Daniel, but half a block down the street, but Ian, being first-born and responsible and all-around wholesome, decided to go shepherd Daniel while Madeleine and I kept moving toward the mini-van.

In the interim, two young-ish guys, obviously very local and a bit rough-and-tumble, walked past Daniel, apparently figured out the situation, and sounded like they were playfully bantering something like "You bettah catch up!" However, this is not what Daniel heard: he thought they were calling him "Jacob," which - although he knows a Jacob - is not his name, and he did not appreciate the mis-identification. So he was reminiscing about these unsavory, name-confusing individuals, and in a fit of indignation-turned-superiority-complex, he gloated: "Plus, they don't even look good. One has yellow hair!"

(April 16, 2011)