Milk, milk, lemonade...

Petal proudly told me that she knows where milk comes from.

I quietly prayed that she wouldn’t say ‘the supermarket’.

“Where’s that, darling?”

“From cows,” she beamed.

“That’s right, well done.”

She followed it up with… “And I know what part of the cow it comes out of!”

“Its udder?” I suggested.

Petal shook her head.

“No, its penis.”

Boy or girl?

Petal asked me if a baby we'd met early that day had been a boy or girl.

"It was a little girl," I told her.

Petal's eyes dropped downwards. She was clearly embarrassed that she couldn't tell the difference.

"Don't worry, darling," I consoled. "It's really hard to tell to difference between boy and girl babies."

A relieved Petal looked up and nodded, "Yes, because boy babies don't have beards."