I bought an anatomy board game because I thought that the little snap-together skeletons were so cute. I wanted to play it with Dorothy over the weekend, but we never got around to it. While she was at school on Monday, I couldn't help myself, and I constructed one of the adorable skeletons. Dorothy returned home and saw the toy. "Mom, you played the game without me?" she asked.
Dorothy and her friend were discussing curse words. (They discuss curse words a lot.) Both girls mentioned their parents' habits. Then Dorothy asked, "How do teachers and grandparents keep from cursing?"
Dorothy was reading and I asked her if she wanted me to turn on a light. I carried on: "My grandparents were always watching me read or do my homework on the floor, and they would comment that I should use a light so I wouldn't ruin my eyes. I guess their eyes were getting worse, like mine are, so they were thinking about light. Of course I'm probably as old now as my grandparents were when I was a kid," I (slightly) exaggerated. "No," Dorothy clarified, "you act as old as them. There's a difference."
