As I made my way towards my abode after a hearty luncheon with old friends, I made my costomary stop outside the double-doors of the building elevator. As I whistled the familiar refrain to "With a little bit o'luck" from the motion picture adaptation of Bernard Shaw's Pygmalion which gained immense popularity under the name My Fair Lady, I became aware that someone was providing an odd accompanyment to it -- one that missed the beats and did nothing to add to the mood of the moment.
Upon investigation, I came upon a little girl sitting on the stairs, sobbing and sniffling -- that's where the intrusive, off-beat percussion emanated from.
"What happened? Why are you crying?" I asked, adopting what I considered to be a suitably sympathetic tone.
"My parents think I'm stupid because I didn't get good grades on my science test," she responded, with appropriate pauses for sobs and sniffs.
"But being stupid is not a reason to cry; it's your parents and teachers who should be crying," I offered.
She didn't get it.
