I have been hearing some interesting conversations going on in the backseat of the vehicle lately. I have come to the conclusion that I need to keep that radio cranked.
The Princess, "When I'm a grown up lady I'm going to be pregnant eleven times!" Pause. "I'm allowed to marry my brother, right Mom?"
(This is the part where I swerve into oncoming traffic.)
The Hurricane, playing with a pair of toy handcuffs (not mine, you dirty beggars), "My girlfriend is pretty so I'm going to put handcuffs on her."
(This is the part where I let go of the wheel and hit the gas.)
Aaaaannnnnddd this is exactly the moment when a mother starts building that lovely wall of Denial. When her offspring are mostly or fully grown and have been arrested, a mother can say with complete conviction, "Oh, not my baby, my baby would never do something like that! He's always been such a good boy!"
And in other news that boosted my self esteem, The Princess told me not long ago, "Wow, Mommy, your underwear are huge!" Oh really? Well, you go ahead with those eleven pregnancies and we'll have a Big Unders competition. Brat.