From the gem closet of children’s phrase comes this story.
My first grader sings in the church choir, and yesterday I was observing her wriggling around with her cassock. Her sweater was itchy, apparently, and she wanted to try to take it off. I went to the choir stalls and we then found some space nearby to do some costume rearrangements. This afternoon, in the car, we were discussing various things, and I explained the expression on my face as I watched her wriggling in church. “You were fiddling with your cassock,” I told her. “But, Daddy, that is not a cassock. A cassock is the box in which you put dead people.”