Her mother's daughter

We had chili for dinner last night, and one of Aisling's table-setting chores was to put some saltine crackers in a serving bowl; likewise, some shredded cheese. She brought the crackers and the cheese in their respective bowls out to the dining room from the kitchen and then stood next to me at my desk (in the far corner of the dining room), thoughtfully munching a cracker.

"Mom," she said, her lips twitching in a smile. "How does a cracker feel as it's being chewed up?"

"I don't know," I answered, looking up at her. "How does it feel?"

"Pretty crummy. Get it? Crummy? C-r-u-m-b-y? C-r-u-m-m-y? HAHAHAHAHAHAHAA!!! Wooooo!!!! Haha! Crummy!!! A cracker!"

She went back to the kitchen to get the salt and pepper shakers, hooting with laughter, as I sat picking the cracker crumbs out of my hair, grinning to myself.

My husband came into the dining room from the living room, plopping down in his chair with a slight groan. "What's so funny?" he asked. "I could use a laugh."

I told him Aisling's joke. "C-r-u-m-b-y? C-r-u-m-m-y? Get it?"

He gave me a long look and then looked at the door that leads to the kitchen, behind which Ailsing was still cackling while telling her joke to Meelyn. "She is just like you and it's all your fault," he said accusingly.

I'm not totally sure what he meant by that, but it didn't sound like a compliment, to either Aisling or to me. Humph.