No Jam
Driving in the car with Zoe this evening, one of those robotic, generic, breathy, wanna-be R&B songs that pass for music these days came on the radio. The following conversation ensued:
Zoe: Oh, that’s my jam.
Me: You’re twelve. You don’t have a jam.
Way to build bridges, man. Mind the gap… :-)
Ah, the sort of moment one preserves. (sorry)