When I was in kindergarten, my parents were trying to teach me the concept of sarcasm. One day we were all in the car and my father pulled up at a set of lights.
“Oh boy, traffic!” he cried, glancing at me in the rearview mirror. “I just love traffic. Traffic is my favourite thing ever!”
My mother turned around in the passenger seat so that she was facing me. “Neeky,” she said. “What is Daddy being right now?”
I hesitated, uncertain, and glanced at my brother before turning back to Mum.
“A dickhead?” I guessed.