Rose: Maybe we can go to Sunday school some time over the summer, to visit the teachers.

John: Well, there’s nobody there over the summer. Maybe you can visit your teachers in the fall. You know, you’ll be in a different classroom then, but you can go see Teacher Karen and Teacher Sarah in the pre-K class. Is that the right name? What’s your class called?

Rose: What class?

John: Your Sunday school class.

Rose: What?

John: Your Sunday school class. Is it called “pre-K”, or “4 year olds”, or something like that?

Rose: What?

John (huffily): Never mind.

Rose: It’s just called Sunday school.

We are having conversations like this all day long, and it is driving me and John insane. It’s like we’ve dropped into the Twilight Zone. What class? Whose ball? It’s like we aren’t on the same planet any more. I don’t know if she’s testing reality by making us break it down into smaller and smaller chunks, she’s not paying attention, or she’s jerking our chains. Since strangling her is out and speaking in a slow, loud, nasty voice is not really conducive to family relations, we need another solution. Actually, having John write this out for me had me laughing hysterically. That helps.