Amy and the High Court

My imaginary daughter Amy, 6, spent Saturday at the home of her friend Shinnae, whose mother, Mahogany, is a plumber.

"Mahogany showed me how to use a pipe wrench," chirped my curiously accomplished angel as she reached for a third piece of toast (from my plate). "You're not eating that, right, Ricky?"

"So Mahogany and her friend Jane were discussing the Supremes Court nominee," she blurted in a display of whole grain crumbs. "Supreme," I corrected. "And?"

"Jane was mad that people on TV were talking about how Kagan wasn't a lebsbian, and why it even mattered if she was a bread baker, but I don't understand what one thing has to do with another. Don't they allow bakers on the Supremes... Supreme Court?"

My inquisitive girl left me momentarily stumped as to which direction to take this conversation.

"Whether or not she is a lesbian is irrelevant. Her sexuality does not make her a better or worse justice." I ignored the whole bread-baking remark, hoping that it could wait for another day.

"Mahogany said it would be interesting to watch them try to get into her panties during the Senate conversation hearings, but I don't understand why they're talking about her panties to begin with... do you think she has Dora panties like mine?"

"I don't know if she has Dora the Explorer underwear, sweetheart, but I'm sure that if she does, they'll probably find out about it."


"They're really the best underpants, I think," offered her budding legal mind, adding, "Maybe I should send her a pair? Can we, Rick?"

And so I bought some Dora panties on Amazon and sent them to Ms. Kagan, c/o the Supreme Court with this note from Amy: "Dear Elena, when they want to see your panties, you will be ready. Love, Amy."

Yes, I know she's big for six.