Friends

First, some background. Our principal left the high school last year to pursue other endeavors. I suppose there was something about the eighteen hour workdays and wanting to actually see his own children that contributed to his decision. Besides just being our former principal, he's a friend and an all around good guy. Anyway, I brought home a copy of last year's yearbook to give to him as a memento of his final year with us. When I got home, I called to tell him that I had the book if he wanted to stop by and pick it up. As I hung up the phone, this is the conversation I had with Keaton:

Keaton: Who is stopping by, Mommy?

Me: Mr. Fox

Keaton: Who is Mr. Fox?

Me: My friend

Keaton (excitedly): Oh! I wike your friend Mr. Fox!

Me (resentfully picking up all the things the boys dumped on the door when they came in): I'm glad.

Keaton: Is your friend Mr. Fox a boy or a girl?

Me: boy

Keaton (thinks for a moment, then his face lights up with what he's sure is a wonderful and appropriate question): Is he ticklish?

I guess that's the difference between friends at three and friends at thirty-one. I don't know if ANY of my friends are ticklish!