A couple of weeks ago, my 9 year old son became enraged, full of the kind of righteous indignation at the unfairness of the world that only children can summon. Shaking and red-faced, he sputtered, "You are soooo mean. It's like you're ...." He stammered until he hit upon the worst thing he could think of. "It's like you're Dick Cheney," he wailed, "and I'm the Bill of Rights."
It was a powerful insult, but I still wouldn't let him jump from bed to bed in our hotel room.