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.”