"Oh, boy!" I rocked the table back and forth. "It's got wheels!" The two students in the back of the classroom didn't look impressed. I tested my new-found toy, pushing at its legs. It lurched forward like a drunken rabbit, then halted abruptly. I squinted at the wheels. "Hey! They've got those brakes on them--like on shopping carts!" This got their attention. Sort of.
"Huh?" one asked, looking up.
"Shopping carts! Actually, I'm not sure if the ones now have brakes on them anymore. . ." I closed one eye in thought. "But I remember from when I was little. They're so the cart doesn't fly away with your kid in it."
"Oh, that explains it," said one, returning to his notes. "I only shop at places that hate kids."
I grinned. "Oh, yeah? Like where?"
He didn't look up. "You know, 'We Hate Children,' 'Kid-Haters 'R' Us,' all the usual places."
"I see." I nodded as if this made perfect sense.
The other spoke up. "Oh, I know those places. I hate them! The food from there always tastes terrible!"
"Hmm. . . I've never had that problem," mused the first. "Maybe you're going to the wrong ones."
The second student thought for a bit. "Yeah. . . The ones I go to always have viruses in the food. Like, a lot of viruses."
"Well, that certainly would make it taste terrible," the first agreed.