Last night, the kids and their dad played at the restaurant. This morning, Rocky is getting ready to go to boy scout camp to build a shelter and spend the night sleeping in it. I am taking a sheet of plastic for him to throw on top in case of emergency.
Rocky's packing consists of a series of questions: "Mom, what happened to my mess kit?" It's right where you left it (which may or may not be where it is SUPPOSED to be...). "Mom, do we have extra toothpaste?" "Mom..."
It also consists of a running commentary of what he is doing, kind of a Howard Cosell of packing. "Now I need to get my gloves. I am packing my gloves. Where are my hoodies. Here they are. Socks. Socks. Socks. Socks are packed."
He brought his suitcase into the kitchen and put it down behind me. "Uh, no," he said. "I don't need to take a panty ho with me."
"A what!?!!?" I swear sometimes my hearing is going.
"A panty ho."
I look across the table at his dad. "Panty ho," he nods.
"Spell it," I tell him.
So he does.
I am speechless. EG says, "Panty ho. One of a pair of panty hose."
"Oh, you mean a STOCKING."
He nods. "Panty ho, one; panty hose, two."
I don't know what bothers me most: that Rocky came up with the term or that his dad corroborated the defintion, rather like a dialect of manspeak.