On the way home from gymnastics:
Isabella (she’s 7): Daddy, you have a son.
Me: Honey, those allegations were never proven in court. What have you heard?
Iz: No, Daddy. Merlin!
She is talking about our new puppy.
Me: Oh, I see where you are going. Well, Sweetie. He is a dog, not my son.
Iz: Did you pay for him?
Me: Well, he was a rescue dog. So, not really. There were some processing fees, I guess.
Iz: Did you pay for me?
Me: Um, you can’t buy actual people. Nowadays. You were more of a…. Gift. A Surprise Gift. A Gag Gift, really.
Me: But, we didn’t have a receipt, so we couldn’t take you back.
Iz: Stop that.
(Yes. This is the level of discourse we have in the car.)