On the afternoon of Easter Sunday, my granddaughter, Sabria, came to my house and announced she was going to walk out into my backyard and see what the Easter Bunny had left her. A few seconds later, she ran back in and announced, “I’m not going back out there! There’s a wasper out there!”
“It’s wasp, not wasper,” I said, “I don’t know why Kentucky people say wasper.”
“Gee!” Sabria said, with hands on her hips and a scowl on her face, “We ARE Kentucky people!”