I: “Mama, I noticed that I don’t have earrings in my jewellery box.” (Yup, she’s sly.)
Me: “Well, yes, that’s true – you don’t have your ears pierced, so you can’t wear earrings.”
I: “Hmmm… I think it would be nice to wear earrings.”
Me: “Would you like to have your ears pierced?”
I: “Pierced??” as she checks her mental thesarus for what other possible meaning ‘pierce’ might have and comes up empty. “How do they do that?”
Me: “Well, they have to push a needle through your ear to make a hole. So they take a gun and press into your earlobe and shoot it through.” (Yes, I know I could have used a word other than gun, but that's what it's called.)
Silence. Clearly, the road noise must have caused a miscommunication, she thinks.
I: “They shoot it near your ear?” Hopefully.
Me: “No, through your ear – to make the hole.”
I: “NEAR your ear?” Nothing if not persistent, she is.
Me: “No, through your ear so the earring can go through – that’s how they stay in.”
I: “Does it hurt?” Ever hopeful.
Me: “Well, yes – though not for very long. But you have to put alcohol on it and turn them often so your ears heal without sticking to the earrings.”
I: “I think I will not have earrings, ok?”