OmegaMom

Said in a snooty, chef-style voice.  "The salad has beans, and celery, and vanilla wine."

Ooookay.

The dotter is deeply into all things restaurateur these days, partly as a result of watching the Food Network.  Instead of building forts or castles, she builds restaurants.  Though she does confuse business enterprise with chivalry when she bows you into her restaurant and asks, "Would you like a menu, m’lady?"

I thought the vanilla wine was an especially nice touch.

Then there’s this piece of highly useful information:

"Mommy, did you know that when people get married, they kiss, and the woman’s foot goes up like this?", complete with a demonstration of classic 1940s-style foot-in-the-air type kiss.  Please note, that kind of kiss does not happen normally, only when you get married.

Then this evening we were talking at the dinner table (after the wondrous salad presentation, which consisted of a variety of stuff–faux lipstick, a row of stickers, some chapstick, the top to one of my little coffees–inside a large clamshell).  The topic turned to boobies.

Don’t ask me why.

But the dotter very seriously said, "Daddy, your boobies are different than mommy’s."  She went on, thoughtfully:  "They’re not so…round.  They don’t stick out as much.  They’re not as…squishy.  Or as…floppy."  It was quite the litany of differences.  Too bad that daddy and mommy busted up laughing.  But then we got off on a discussion of how if you don’t milk goats, their boobies hurt, and that the same thing happens with women who are breastfeeding babies.  "Oh, my, that’s not good!" quoth the dotter.

I’d actually like to discuss some more thought-provoking items, such as, say, political primaries, or Sony BMG’s very short-lived attempt to get people to purchase key-cards so they can download Sony BMG music, which segued into Sony BMG, very red-faced, deciding to just let people download their music via Amazon.

But some of these dotter-isms need to be recorded for posterity.