"I think we're crotchety before our time," I told my husband last night. "Like, precociously crotchety." We were walking with Joe in our cute little downtown on a lovely spring evening, along with approximately 7000 college students. Elwood pointed out that one of our kids is the King of Crotchety, despite his youth. Some inner voice seems to say to him, again and again, "Is this thing a new thing? Bah, I reject it! And so should everyone else!" I laughed because it's so true. (If someone demonstrates precocity in the domain of being crotchety, can you call it precrotchety?) I said, "He's, like, the Einstein of crotchety."
Joe agreed with fervor. "E equals m c get-off-my-lawn!"