Our granddaughter, who is not yet four years of age, knows exactly what she wants to do with her life. “I want to be a carrot,” she announced the other day, “so people can put me in their salad.” “A pink carrot,” she added, “because pink is for girls. And I’m a girl!”
It turns out she also aspires to become a cupcake—the better to be eaten, I suppose—but, again, only if the color is pink.