The other morning I was trying to get out the front door, late, carrying bags, Ember, car seat etc etc, trying to keep the dog inside, and the bloody door wouldn't close properly. In frustration, a certain expletive passed my lips. After a short silence, Em suddenly piped up:
Em: Far kindor. Far kindor. Mama, what's far kindor?
Me: (trying desperately not to crack up, and failing) Mummy said a bad word. I shouldn't have said that.
Em: No, you should have said "silly door".
Me: Yes, you're right, I should have!
Later that morning I was explaining to Em that we were going to a potluck dinner that evening.
Em: What's potluck dinner?
Me: Well, everyone brings something along, and we all share.
Em: (in great consternation) But I don't want to share my dinner!
Me: (pause) ok, you don't have to!