Today at the grocery store, Carter said (in a reasonably loud, articulate voice): "Hey Mom! Let's talk about chicken poop!"

I had so many competing reactions: "SHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!" was one, "HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA" was another, and "Honey, we don't like to talk about poop in the grocery store" was a third, and "Gosh, I don't know where he learns these things..." was yet another.

You know, Ava has presented me with her share of challenges, but Carter seems to be uniquely suited (unlike his sister) to mortifying me. He is the child in those magazine vignettes who talks loudly about his observations of other people, as if a soundproof vapor shield is around him. And he has no ability to ameliorate his observations. If a woman is tall, he refers to her as "HUGE!" --now, technically, it is a word that could be applied, particularly relative to his height, but how to explain that there are some far preferable choices?

and of course, my capacity to distract shuts down at exactly those moments, so we always seem to be heard, loud and clear.