A few weeks ago, A-Ro and I were on our way back from the bagel store when she asked: "Daddy, what's a grunt?"
I had to think a moment on that one, before saying: "Well, it's a noise you make when you exert a lot of energy."
"No," she said, "a grunt, like in Charlotte's Web."
"Oh," I said, understanding. "I think the word is runt."
"Wilbur was a grunt," she said.
"I guess you could say that. Pigs do grunt."
"You know, Daddy, you're like a grunt."
I nodded as I looked back at her through the rearview mirror. "I guess I am." She had a point, after all. Her Daddy is not the largest of men.
"You know what they do to grunt's?" she asked.
"What's that, Sweetie?" I answered.
"They kill them."