Imogen: I think I know why the wolf chased the three little pigs.
Me: Oh yeah, why?
Imogen: Think about it, Mommy. Everyone knows wolves like bacon.
I took the kids for a walk in the river valley. Imogen pretended to walk the tightrope on the line painted on the paved bicycle path.
Imogen: Remember Mirette on the Highwire? Was she fictitious or real?
Me: I don't remember, it's been a while since we read that book. I remember that the man who taught her was a real tightrope walker though.
Imogen: The Great Bellini!
Me: Yes, I think that was his name. We'll look up Mirette when we get home. You have such a good memory, Imogen!
Fast forward to bedtime. I am reading Imogen the 3rd book in the series The Incorrigible Children of Ashton Place. We are on Chapter 12.
Me: blah blah blah Cassiopiea said blah blah...
Imogen, interrupting: Who is Cassiopiea?
Me: One of the three Incorrigible Children, the main characters in the series we have been reading.
Imogen: Oh, I forgot. You may proceed.
I came home with a bouquet of flowers for MamaJen than included pussywillows.
Imogen: You even got MamaJen some pussies!
Me: We don't really say that, Imogen.
Imogen: I say it for short for pussywillow. It also means kitty.
Me: Okay. But in North America a lot of people use the words pussy or pussies to mean vagina or vaginas. It's mostly just in England that people say pussy for kitty.
Imogen: Well then why don't we call the plant a vaginawillow?
Why now, indeed!
This afternoon I took Imogen and Liam, with Julius in tow, on a shopping spree. We had given them passes to a trampoline park (Launchpad Trampoline) which is not honouring the passes (another story for another time and place. ) To make it up to them, I took them shopping for replacement gifts of their choice.
As we walked into the second store, Imogen having already secured a video game she really wanted,
Me: Did you just lick me?
Imogen: Yes! Because I am so excited about this shopping spree and so happy!
Me: That's kind of a strange way to show you're happy, honey.
Imogen: It's okay, I'll rub it off.
Imogen and I were reading the third Incorrigible Children of Ashton Place and reached the scene where Lord Ashton describes his grandfather's death by cause of murderous pheasants.
Imogen: What does murderous mean?
Me: It means killing, murdering, someone or something on purpose.
Imogen: Oh. I thought murdering was winking your eye at someone.
(Apparently MamaJen never played the childhood game of Murder from which Imogen was drawing this understanding, so she found it all the funnier.)