This raggedy boy is incontrovertible proof that God knows I'm an incurable know-it-all and wants to demonstrate how annoying it is. Also irony.
Sandi: Pull your bowl closer to you.
Oscar: It's not a bowl, it's a plate.
...three minutes later*...
Sandi: Lucy, pass me your plate.
Oscar: You said it was a bowl
Sandi: It's rude to correct me. I'm a grown-up, and sometimes I know what I'm talking about.
Oscar: You're not a grown-up. You're an adult.
Sandi: [Dies of frustration]
Now, admittedly, there's much to admire in semantic precision and rigorous attention to detail. Just not when it's aimed at me.
See? Incurable.
--
*that was not three minutes just then
