Out of the mouths of babes
I neglected to post possibly the most amusing part of the party yesterday. When I left, Tim and Victoria and the kids were also leaving to drop some stuff off with Tim's parents. Tonio also left at the same time. I was carrying the remains of the cake out to the car while Tim took care of the kids and Victoria went back into the house. As Tim is buckling Timothy into his car seat, Oliver starts saying to me, "You're a hooker! You're a hooker!" Now, the boy is not yet five. I do not think he knows the real meaning of the word. And, at first, I wasn't sure I was hearing him right, but then Tonio was like, is he calling you what I think he's calling you? We said something to Tim, who said he'd had a discussion with Oliver about how a person who bakes is a baker; a person who dives is a diver; that sort of thing. I don't know where hooks come into play, though. Ollie, dear, I neither crochet nor knit.