Seven of us are eating dinner. Imogen is keeping everyone amused with her longtime, ongoing narrative about how Jen is her biological mother and the mother she likes best. We are all giggling lots at her stories.
Imogen: Am I being silly?
Me: Yeah, maybe a little bit.
Imogen: Silly like a clown?
Me: Um, sure, maybe a little silly like a clown.
Imogen: Or silly like a beetle lying on its back on the top of a mountain?
You know, that near-iconic image of silly that springs to mind at the mention of the word. Uh huh.