So I was sitting on my bed, watching who-knows-what crime drama, the other night and The Dormouse came in to sit next to me in a rare sitting-still-and-not-elbowing-momma-in-the-stomach moment.

As Grissom and Katherine painstakingly took photographs of broken glass on the ground and pondered whether the glass was broken from the inside or the outside (or whatever it was whoever it was were doing), The Dormouse threw this one in my lap:

"Momma, do we kiss boys?"

I am not prepared for the next sixteen years.