"Mom," my eleven-year-old daughter said. "Can you make me some toxic milk?"
"Excuse me?" I asked. "How am I supposed to do that?"
"Just pour some milk in a glass and add toxic syrup. Come on, Mom. You know how to do it!"
"You want me to poison you?" I asked.
The girl looked at me like I had twenty-six eyeballs. "What are you talking about, Mom?"
She started laughing. "No, Mom. Chocolate. Chocolate milk."
"Oh," I said. "That makes more sense. You need to speak a little more clearly."
"And you need to get your hearing checked."