fragend

A little girl (one who is sharp as a tack, as you will see) asked me the other day what the difference is between a rock and a stone.
[ ! ]
Unable to think as quickly as necessary, I patted the spot next to me on the couch (or should I say the divan) and said, "sit here and let's think about that."
She looked at me expectantly.
I smiled; then treaded water by starting with a question: "What do you call it when somebody climbs up the side of a mountain?"
"Rock climbing?"
"Yes! You wouldn't say stone climbing, right?" I said with a note of triumph.
"So ... a rock is bigger than a stone?"
"Yes!"
"But what about rock candy then?"
[ ! ]
"... Well ... you see, that's really sugar. It just looks like rocks, so it doesn't count."
Her chin tilted up at me, and I got that look ... the one that children give adults at moments like this.
I put both hands on my knees and breathed in. "Ah! Look at my jeans ... they are stone-washed, not rock-washed; because there are lots of little stones in the water, not big rocks, you see?!"
Her eyes narrowed ... her lips pressed together. "But wouldn't the washing machine break if you put lots of stones in it?"
"Oh no, no. The jeans company has special heavy-duty washing machines."
She made direct eye contact with me.
I grinned. "So that is the difference between rocks and stones. Stones are small pieces of rock," I breathed out.
She looked down at her fist, opened it, and held out a handful of little stones she had collected outside.
"Ohh ... those are nifty!" I said. "Your rock collection is getting pretty big, huh?!"
"But you said ...," she began.
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