The Oldest Profession

My boys are smart.  Even Graham, who has a two year disadvantage over his brother, possesses an alarmingly accurate radar for misbehavior and has no problem sharing his findings.  And while we're working on curbing the tattling epidemic in my home, there are some offenses that must be reported.

"There's a hooker outside, Mommy."

"There's a what?!?"

"A hooker.  In the yard."

"Why is there a hooker in the yard?"

"I don't know.  It was under the deck.  Cael really liked it and put it in his pants."

"Cael put a hooker in his pants?"

"Yep.  The hooker was in the mud.  But Cael thinks hookers are cool so he put it in his pocket."

"What does it look like?"

"It's really dirty and bendy."

"Well if it's really dirty, you'd better bring it here.  I don't want all of you to have your hands all over that hooker."

"No, I don't want to bring it in!"

"Yes, you need to."

"NO!  I want to play with it!  I want to play with that hooker!"

Hook, Graham.  Hook.
 

We still have some lessons to learn.