They are like little germ ridden sponges.

We are having a sleepover right now. Over dinner the children were having a lively conversation which I was almost completely successful in tuning out, until I heard B very matter-of-factly say this:

“…blah blah yada yada my parents didn’t want me, but they wanted T blah blah yada blah…”

*choke*

(I clarified this. I explained how we wanted him, we just weren’t expecting him for a few years. I told him how he was the greatest surprise present I have ever been given. I kissed his cheek and ruffled his hair. I was quite cool and collected about the whole thing. I am going to be paying an ASSLOAD in therapy bills when he hits his teen years, aren’t I?)