It’s Saturday night. We’re on our way out to dinner with friends. I’ve just briefed the two fifteen year-old girls who are babysitting. John sits in the car, snickering.
Me: What’s so funny?
John: Oh, nothing.
Me: No really. What gives?
John: The last thing you said to those poor girls was, and I quote, “The kid movies are over there, by the TV. The adult movies, the adult movies we keep up on this shelf behind the door in my studio there.”
John: Did you see the looks on their faces? Do you realise that there are two teenagers in our house who think you just showed them where the porn is?