When I was growing up, I did not like asparagus. Because I was a very finicky eater overall, my parents had lots of strategies to get me to choke down stuff I didn’t care for. On this occasion, my dad told me that I wasn’t pronouncing the word properly, and that it’s really “sparrow grass” and if I ate it I would be able to fly. I fell for it. I ate the sparrow grass, and then went around the various chairs and couches in the house to see if it worked. I went to the backyard, got going on the swings and jumped off and wildly flapped my arms. Happily, I was never so confident my flying ability that I tried jumping off of the roof.
