This morning at breakfast I recited for the girls an old rhyme about the days of the week:
Monday's child is fair of face;
Tuesday's child is full of grace;
Wednesday's child is full of woe;
Thursday's child has far to go;
Friday's child is loving and giving;
Saturday's child works hard for a living;
and a child that is born on the Sabbath day
is blythe and bonnie in every way.
After I'd explained to them that the poem's writer evidently hadn't understood that the Sabbath isn't Sunday, but Saturday, and emphasized the need for accurate understanding of the facts before any sort of literary undertaking, they clamoured to know upon what days of the week they had been born.
Mommy: Saturday. Both of you.
Older daughter: You stinker!!!
Mommy: I had very little say in the matter, Young lady. You were the one who decided when to be born.
Older daughter: Hey! I didn't know it was Saturday! There wasn't a calendar in there!