A few months ago, I was trying on lingerie in front of the bathroom mirror (for Valentine’s Day). I was unaware that three and a half year old Kit was within earshot. Being now in my middle years, to put it delicately, everything is not where it used to be. Nonetheless, I was attempting to titillate, not terrify!
I muttered under my breath, “Oh my gosh! I look a bit heavy.”
Kit peered around the door and asked, “What’s a heifer?”
I immediately corrected him, “I said heavy! I said, Oh my gosh! I look a bit heavy.”
“You did not!” he said indignantly, “You said, Oh my god! I look like a heifer! I heard you. So what’s a heifer, then?”
I sighed and replied, “It’s a big fat cow.”
He eyed me appraisingly.
“Then you don’t look like a heifer,” he said.
“Thank you, Kit.”
“Because, they have brown eyes, and yours are blue.”
“??!”
“And they don’t wear fancy undies. I saw all those cows in that great big, enormous, huge field one time. They stretched as far as the eye could see; it must have been most of the cows in the whole world” he exaggerated.
“When did you see them?” I asked.
“When you took me down to the Funny Farm, and we drove past them on the way” he explained.
I suppressed a laugh. “Kit! It’s called Strange Farm. Strange is my friend’s surname.”
“Well I was close!” he said, “Funny means strange.”
“True. But Funny Farm means something else.”
“Oh! I nearly forgot,” he interrupted, “You don’t look like a heifer because you’re not fat.” He peered at me intently for a few seconds.
“You’re wearing you’re Too Little, Too Late Face” he announced. “Dad warned me about that.” And he quickly scampered out the door.
