Well, Hillmomba narrowly avoided being smacked by that falling GOCE satellite Sunday. Narrowly, as in about 1/4 of the circumference of the earth away. The Pony was blessedly unaware that the sky had been falling. His response yesterday, to the fact that we were still alive and kicking: "Huh."
"Oh, Pony. We're all just dinosaurs, living out our boring lives until the big one strikes, making us extinct. Just dinosaurs."
"Well...some people more than others."
"That's not very nice of you, saying I'm such a dinosaur. I know I'm old."
"I wasn't referring to you. You are like...the thing that comes...AFTER the dinosaur."
"Whew! For a minute there, I thought you were calling me the thing that comes OUT OF the dinosaur!"
"No. I mean like the small burrowing creatures that survived."
"Oh. I'm a furry catlike horse with toes? How comforting."
"Noooo. BURROWING. Not furry. A burrowing creature. Because you are not exactly a dinosaur like the people who don't understand technology. You understand just a little bit of it."
I call that a ringing endorsement. But I'm most proud not to be a pile of what comes out of a dinosaur.