I recently hired an eighteen-year-old. I've known her most of her life, and I've always enjoyed talking with her, even during the usually-god-awful tween years. She is brilliant but economically disadvantaged, so I'm doing my best to ensure that college happens. Let's call her "Poindexter."
We were meeting online the other day when she told me she was looking at my wall. My webcam had fallen behind my monitor, so I grabbed and reaffixed it, the top of my head momentarily pointing at the camera. Poindexter burst into giggles.
"Are you laughing at my bald head, kid?"
"No," she chortled. "I'm laughing at you wearing two pairs of glasses, grandpa."