My daughter asked me the other day: "Dad, what is a midget?" I scratched my head and all of a sudden my feet started to fidget. "A midget is a small kind dear." And that is what I told her. "So am I a midget?", she then asked - I had to pick her up and hold her. "Sort of, honey, but not quite - a midget is your size their entire life. " "But why?" She asked. "Oh my!" I said. "Let's ask the dictionary, it's bound to know!" Past the L's and to the O's, I skimmed too far God only knows... I found the M's it began to worsen A midget is a very small person So then I was asked the recursive question, "Am I a midget?" "what's your intentions!?!" "I just want to know that's all. I'm curious!" "Girl - you're starting to make me furious!" Eventually she was happy with my explanation, I started to have a relieved sensation. If she is happy I can finally work - maybe... Until she asked, "Dad how do midgets make a baby?" here we go again...