Last night, my husband walked in the door and said, "Some of the best conversations I have in this neighborhood are with the kids." Then he recalled this short bit of dialog:
My Husband: Hey, Chico*. How's it going?
Chico: Good. Who are you voting for on Tuesday?
My Husband: Obama. I read his auto-biography and really liked what he had to say.
Chico: OK. So where's Mosley**?
What I appreciate about this short conversation is that Chico cut to the chase--no need for polite chit chat or natural segues to a preferable subject. He simply wanted to know how my husband was voting. When he was satisfied with that answer, he moved on to his favorite topic of conversation: our dog.
* When I tell people about Chico, I feel compelled to note that this is his real name, and we don't call all Dominican boys in the neighborhood Chico. This is likely unnecessary, but indulge me here.
** Our dog.
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