Also, in unrelated news, Mac and I were walking in an upscale North Berkeley market the other day when I was shot dead.

We rounded the corner from spirits to cereals and nearly bumped into a young mom who blinked in surprise. Two steps behind was her adorable little girl, no older than three, who solemnly looked up at me and jabbed her pudgy little index finger toward my face.

“I keel you,” she squeaked. And then ran up and grabbed her mother’s outstretched hand.

It took a moment — we were halfway into coffees and teas before it sunk in. “Did she say…” my girlfriend began.

“Yeah,” I said. “She killed me.”

Gosh, but kids say the darnedest things. Don’t they.