We live in a rectory on the second floor of our parish. Anyhow, we have a friendly relationship with our Baptist neighbors to the East. They are lovely people and the girls go over and work in the yard with them when they are out and about.
The other evening we were sitting at the dining room table after dinner talking and the girls heard our neighbors. As always, the girls gathered in front of the window and yelled hello, asking how they were and other such niceties.
Well, I'll just recount the conversation:
GIRLS: "HI MR. M.!!!!" "WERE HAVING POPSICLES!!"
MR. M. "OH I LOVE POPSICLES!!" "WHAT FLAVOR?"
THEA: "I'M HAVING STRAWBERRY AND KAFERINE AND ZOE ARE HAVING LIME" "KAFERINE LIKES THE LIME BECAUSE IT TASTES LIKE MARGARITAS!"
MR. M. "OH, I SEE..."
GIRLS: "GOODNIGHT MR. M. WE LOVE YOU!!"
Fr. Justin and I just sort of stare at one another with the deer in the headlights look.
Now, I'll give a bit of explanation for those of you who are sensitive to such conversations. The girls know what margaritas taste like because we having given them a tiny taste before. No, we do not let them drink margaritas.