Prostitutes and Purple Pipes

I've been a very bad blogger, I know, but to make up for it, I have two new, never before seen, brand-spanking new, entirely nascent AirBear sayings to make up for it.

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Yesterday we were driving home from ballet, and the news was on. One of the headlines was about sex-workers winning a court appeal against policemen for arresting them for who they are and not for what they do. One prozzie claimed that she had been arrested over 200 times without charge.

Well, the girls always listen to the news when we're in the car. And AirBear gets quite interested in this woman, right. She wants to know why she got arrested. "Because she did something bad," I attempt to ignore the core of the answer. But she isn't satisfied. She wants to know exactly what that bad thing was that got a woman arrested 200 times.

I sigh. "Airie, I'll tell you when you're older, ok?" 

"NO! Mom," I see big eyes pleading at me in the rear-view mirror, "you need to tell us now!"

"Why? Why not when you're older?"

"Because what if we do the same thing?"

"You probably won't," I shake my head - I guess it's a fair question.

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The next story opens with me on the loo. This used to be a regular public performance, but I've cut down on my audience admissions, and try to keep them outside the bathroom when I need to go. It works most of the time, not always, but most of the time.

On the occasions that I have the room to myself, you can be sure that at least one little person is seated just on the other side of the door, having a very important conversation with me that can't wait until later.

So there we were. Me on the loo, and AirBear guarding the entrance.

Things were going pretty quietly until there was a great gasp from beyond the walls of my privvy. It was the kind of gasp that makes you think that the person gasping has just seen a giant spider, or just won the Euro Lotto.

"What is it?" I inquired.

"Mom," she stated, most matter-of-factly, "you're not going to believe this: the pipes in my soul are purple!"

Will someone volunteer how I'm supposed to respond to that.

The more I tried to figure out what she was talking about, the more anxious and excited she became about her purple soul pipes. For a minute or two we chattered back and forth while I tried to make out what the heck she was on about.

Turns out she spotted the superficial veins in her wrist.

Go figure.