Warning. The following post will include the word 'vagina' many many times. If you are offended by that word or the concept of vaginas, you might want to pass. Scene: Bedtime
me: Are you sleeping?
me: I'm glad you're home.
Crockett: Me too.
me: Do you think that cavewomen had tough vaginas?
Crockett: Why would you ask me that?
me: Well. I was just thinking that I don't think they wore underwear, and maybe they got sunburned and stuff, and their vaginas became more like the soles of feet.
Crockett: I don't think so.
me: What about when they would sit on the ground next to the fire? Do you think they got vaginas full of dirt?
Crockett: Stop thinking about it.
me: Vagina full of dirt. Ha. I'm going to start a new blog called Vagina Full of Dirt.
Crockett: Please don't.
me: Or a band. That would be a great band name. The Vagina Full of Dirt.
Crockett: I'm going to sleep now.
me: You know the 'if I should die before I wake' prayer?
me: What if I die in my sleep and my last words on earth were vagina full of dirt? How would I explain that when I got to heaven? They'd look me up in that book and be all 'are you sure you're supposed to be here?'
Crockett: There's a last words book?
me: Probably. Anyway. Goodnight, I love you.
Crockett: Love you too.
How lucky is he, really?