Disaster, Narrowly Averted

Five-year old: Mommy, you know that lady you were telling Grandma about?

Me: Hmmm… I’m not sure which lady you mean.

Five-year old: You know, that lady that you used to work with. Remember you were telling Grandma about her?

Me: Umm… (comprehension uncomfortably dawning).

Five-year old: You were telling Grandma about how her husband didn’t want to be married anymore?

Me: Yes, I think I remember (panicking just a little).

Five-year old: And you said it was because he wanted to have an open marriage, but she didn’t?

Me: Yes… (wildly searching for the right answer to the question that was inevitably on its way, and coming up with nothing at all).

Five-year old: So, mommy?

Me: Yes, sweetheart? (Bracing myself and swearing to be more discreet when telling adult stories in the future).

Five-year old: Was his name Bruce?

Me: Um… no, I don’t think his name was Bruce.

Five-year old: Oh, I thought it was.