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从你垂垂欲落泪，呜咽如有声的表情来看，咱们的谈话该结束了。我会让你回去继续点点戳戳，继续东动西动，继续玩闹，继续撕机上杂志玩。我还会待在自己的座位上，幻想将自己这没有小孩的成年人的身体冲出飞机，畅游天空。提米，享受接下来的飞行吧。坐在你身边，我真的很喜欢。交新朋友真是有趣啊。 Hello, 6-year-old child. Seeing as how fate has brought us together here, in the crowded coach section of this expensive airplane, I thought I should introduce myself. My name is Amy, and I’m an adult. I suspect that you’re too young to understand what “adult means, so let me explain. It means that I’m taller than you, and smarter, and that I get to do lots of awesome things, like smoke cigarettes and ovulate. It also means that I like to take naps on airplanes and read my newspaper in silence. These things seem to be very different from the things that you like to do. I’ve gleaned from its near-constant utterance by the woman sitting next to you—your mother, I suppose, or perhaps a social worker or a federal prisoner who’s being paid to spend time with you—that your name is Timmy. It’s probably Timothy, actually, but people call you Timmy because it’s cuter. Which is appropriate, Timmy, because you’re very cute, you really are. I’m going to drink this cup of coffee—would you like some? I didn’t think so. You’re more of a juice-box man, from what I gather. The way I gather this is by looking at the stain on my ninety-eight-dollar pants, the one you made when you put your juice box there. If I touched your pants, Timmy, I would probably be sent to jail. There are lots of differences between you and me, but that’s one of the big ones: the quality and the seriousness of what happens when we touch other people’s pants. | 
