Bunting, Bunting, Crane, Crane...Wait, What?

A flock of cranes landed on my living room floor yesterday. There are about 21 of them. These are the small ones. My son made them and was so inspired by his own new-found folding ability that he taped 16 sheets of white paper together and made a giant crane--simply humongous. He is a folding demon now.

He then taught my daughter, who can now make a delightful crane, and me, who maybe can make a delightful crane now.

Later in the day he told me that he really likes cranes..."What?" "I like cranes a lot.", he said. I was completely confused by this and positioned my arm with my elbow cocked way up high and my hand dropped down. "You mean a crane?", I asked, puzzled, thinking of a crane at a construction site. "No! A crane like what I folded!" "Oh!!!! Yeah, I do too. Those are great."

Words are tricky sometimes.

Another time, years ago, my husband and I were watching a baseball game on TV. There, behind the batter, was a low brick wall draped with bunting. I could see it, but still my head was elsewhere. "I like bunting.", my husband said. "I do too, it's cool." I agreed. "I wouldn't say it's cool." my husband replied. "Yeah it is! It's so difficult." I replied indignantly. "There is nothing difficult about bunting." My husband countered, sort of irritated with my idea. I was shaking my head in disbelief. "God! How arrogant of you! Of course it's hard! Bunting is very hard!" "No it's not. Not in the least--what are you talking about?!" my husband asked exasperatedly. "Bunting. What are you talking about?" "Bunting. You know, the drapey stuff on the wall." my husband clarified. "Oh!!!! I was talking about bunting--the batting action. You know!" All was revealed.

Words. Tricky.