A Celebration of Disrespect

My brother-in-law sent out this email the other day about a conversation with his just-about-to-turn-five year old. He swears this is verbatim, and considering my niece, I don't doubt it for a second. Cracks me up every time I read it. (Oh, and just in case you're wondering, they live in Manhattan; makes the whole walking-back-from-the-grocery-store-in-the-freezing-cold thing slightly more understandable.)

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Walking back from the grocery store with A in three degree weather (minus twelve, wind chill).
DADDY: Hey, we're walking in a refrigerator, A, aren't we?
A: No! It's not a refrigerator.
DADDY: It isn't?
A: No! There's a car! And cars can't be in the refrigerator. And there's a store! And stores can't be in the refrigerator.
DADDY: And there's people!
A: And people can't be in the refrigerator. We're outside!
DADDY: But feel how cold it is! It it sure feels like we're in a refrigerator.
A: (Pause) That's just the wind, you idiot.