"Don't swear at the table,"
"I wasn't," she said, quick as lightning. "I was swearing at Tom."
The really sad part was the full 30 seconds it took for me to get the joke.
Well, my first baby is 19 today. He says if one more person quotes him a line from those old Paul Hardcastle lyrics he might just scream. He's never even heard the song, and for quite a while he couldn't understand why everyone over the age of 32 inexplicably develops a stutter whenever they refer to his age today.
He's having a peaceful day, having spent yesterday plumbing in our new loo, which took from 9am until 1am and was not without glitches. He was glad he'd done it in the end though. We sat and shared a pot of tea in the middle of the night (as you do) and wondered how many nineteen year-olds have plumbed in a loo.
He was glad he'd done it in the end, because he can fix it now without trying to find a plumber. He can fix just about anything now without trying to find a plumber - he was even making little joints with flux and a blowtorch yesterday after some lessons from his grandfather. And I don't think anyone does that any more (except people's grandfathers).
He seems extremely grown-up now, my firstborn. So much so that I don't forget he's an adult any more, which I often did after he first turned 18. He really seems like one now.
His baby sister, on the other hand, is doing a less successful job of that, for all she's toddling around in my scarf right now, pretending to be me!