A white hair! On Miles' head! Sensitive to his feelings, I hold it with my thumb and index finger, wave it vigorously above my head, and prance about the house.

Miles chases me, chanting. "It's not white—it's blonde!"

Breathlessly, I run for a bag in which to deposit my new treasure! Miles catches me. He frees the hair.

"It WASN'T white. It was blonde."

He struts away, proud. There is smugness in his step. There is despondency in mine. It was white...it was.