Derrida? Non, pas aujourd'hui.
Winton has deep circles under his eyes on this, his fourth day home with Granma. I suspect they result from conversations like this:
GM: Yes? [not looking up from the TV coverage of the royal wedding]
W: Granma, cream cheese. [Meaning: I'd like an english muffin with cream cheese]
GM: Huh? [not looking up from the TV coverage of the royal wedding]
W: Cream cheese, Granma, Cream. Cheese. Please?
GM: What? [not looking up from the TV coverage of the royal wedding] I don't know what you're saying Winton. You want peas?
W: [wailing] No no no no. Crmmmmm CHEESE!
GM: I'm sorry, honey. I don't know what you want. Do you have a poopy diaper?
W: [Falling face down onto his blue blanket, "Neh neh"] CREAM CHEESE [except through the blue fuzz it comes out "Grrmmm Thsss"]
GM: Let's ask your mother before she goes to work.