My kids love books, just like me. They passed the time during yesterday’s inclement weather by reading, and finished their respective books at almost the same time: my son’s being The Outsiders, by S.E. Hinton, and my daughter’s being one of the Warrior Cats books (I can’t remember which one). My son suggested that, since they still couldn’t go outside, they should swap books and continue reading. My daughter read the blurb on the back of the book and said:
“Nope. No way. This book is totally unbelievable.”
Son: “What are you talking about? The author based it on stuff that happened to people she knew!”
Daughter: “No one would ever name their kid Ponyboy.”
That’s right. She has been simply devouring a series of books that revolve around wild cats who fight each other–and apparently humanity–to save their forest home, but can’t suspend her belief enough to accept a human protagonist named Ponyboy.