A cardinal flew into our picture window after we cleaned it, breaking its little neck. (Moral: Housework is deadly and should be avoided.)
My son, the animal lover, was greatly affected. In horror he ran to inspect the creature. He bent over the exquisite bird, fantastically red but with surprising blue underfeathers. He looked up at me, with tears in his eyes and stick in his hand and asked:
“Can I poke it?”
It figures. This is the quintessential little boy question, applicable in a shocking number of situations. Sometimes I think it’s the quintessential male question.
I wonder if there is a little girl equivalent.