One reason not to encourage classical studies...

>Daddy?
>What, Babe?
>What's that?

He points to an old hand cranked meat grinder that we have sitting on a window sill in front of the sink.

>It's a meat grinder.

–Thirty or forty seconds pass.

>Daddy?
>Yeah, Babe?
>What's a meat cleaver?

I happen to have a small meat cleaver that I bought at a barn sale over the summer. It's still in the box I bought it in. I pick up the box that has a picture of said cleaver printed on the box top. I show him the box.

>This is a meat cleaver.

Then I put the box back.

–Another thirty or forty second pause.

>Uh... Daddy?
>Babe?
>What does it mean to "wield a meat cleaver?"

–Five second pause on my part.

>What do you mean by "wield a cleaver?"
>It was something I heard in a story, I think. I'm not sure. What does it mean? To "wield a meat cleaver?"

I take the box back into my hand and hold my hand over the picture so as to show him cleaver wielding. I show him a couple of shakes of what cleaver wielding would look like and put the box back. He wanders off and goes to play.

–A few minutes later I go to him and ask:

>Babe?
>Yeah, Daddy?
>What story did you hear about wielding a meat cleaver?
>It was one of my CDs
>Oh. Do you remember which one?
>It was one of the CDs about the Greek legends. I think it was Theseus or somthing.

(I mutter under my breath:
>I hope it wasn't Oedipus.