Five-year old: Mommy, you know that lady you were telling Grandma about?
Me: Hmmm… I’m not sure which lady you mean.
Five-year old: You know, that lady that you used to work with. Remember you were telling Grandma about her?
Me: Umm… (comprehension uncomfortably dawning).
Five-year old: You were telling Grandma about how her husband didn’t want to be married anymore?
Me: Yes, I think I remember (panicking just a little).
Five-year old: And you said it was because he wanted to have an open marriage, but she didn’t?
Me: Yes… (wildly searching for the right answer to the question that was inevitably on its way, and coming up with nothing at all).
Five-year old: So, mommy?
Me: Yes, sweetheart? (Bracing myself and swearing to be more discreet when telling adult stories in the future).
Five-year old: Was his name Bruce?
Me: Um… no, I don’t think his name was Bruce.
Five-year old: Oh, I thought it was.
