Margaret was 5.  She and her sister Willa, 8, were in the backseat of my car and we were headed to get lunch at Winterset.  They had just got done looking at cows.

I hadn’t seen them since last August.

“What do you like to do Willa?”

“I like archery.”

“Really?  I don’t think I’ve ever met a gal that likes archery before.”

“My cousin does it, so I tried it, and I’m really good.”

I believed her, but I wasn’t about to go placing an apple on my head just yet.

“What about you, Margaret?”

“I like gymnastics.”

Somehow she had managed to place an “f” in gymnastics.  I would have never thought that was possible, so I asked again.

“What was it that you enjoy?”

“Gymnastics.”

Yep.  There it was.  I can’t say exactly where, but you couldn’t miss it.  I found it admirable.  I had always thought I could work an “f” into anything.  I’ve got nothing on a 5 year old.