Conversations with eight-year-olds at suppertime
Kevin: So your mom has no style, I hear.
Me: Actually, she also said you have no style.
Fooey [to Kevin]: And no hair.
Me: What about what I’m wearing right now?
Fooey: Let me see your pants. I like your pants. Your shirt …
Albus: I was going to say the opposite.
Me: You don’t like my shirt?
Fooey: Umm …
Me: Do you think other moms have style?
Fooey: Not really. No.
Me: Can you think of any growups who have style?
Fooey: Fiona! [her aunt, Kevin’s sister]
Me: Fiona’s a mom.
Fooey: Oh, yeah.
Me: What do you like about her style?
Fooey: *shrugs* *thinks*
Me: Is it because Fiona wears jewellery?
Fooey: You don’t wear any jewellery.
Me: What about this? *indicates hippie-type camp bracelet on wrist*
Fooey: I made that for you.
Me: And I’m wearing it!
Fooey: You never wear *indicates earrings* except when you’re going out.
Me: My ears get infected easily.
Fooey: Oh. *not impressed*
Me: What about my ring?
Fooey: *indicates conversation over*
Me: I have style! *wonders: should I start wearing more jewellery?*