Dangerous

Teaching two 11-year-old girls the word "dangerous," I ask them to name some dangerous animals.

"You're a dangerous animal," says one.

"OK," I say. "Maybe. Can you name any other dangerous animals?"

"Your hair," the other girl says. And she explains that my hair and I are actually different animals, that my hair leaves my head at night and flies around the city following girls and feeding on moths.

"It's true," the first girl says then. "I saw it."