Five asked me about lipstick last night as I was putting him to bed, and about make-up and girls looking pretty.
“Who’s the prettiest girl you know?” I asked him, out of curiosity. I expected him to say Julia, one of the youngest teachers at his school, who is, indeed, very pretty, and Five has talked to us about her before, describing the very special way her hair sometimes falls over her eye, and then he smiles and his eyes twinkle and he slips off into silent reverie.
But he thought about it instead. And then he said “Hmm. Maybe you.”
“Maybe me! Thank you!”
Then he added, “I said MAYBE!”