Personal space

Overheard at my house last night:

"Tell Daddy what you did at pre-school today."

"I poked da teacher..."

"...and where did you poke her?"

"In da boobie..."

At this point, things got dark, as my torso convulsed, I turned away and I covered my face with my hands to disguise the laughter that was ably muffled, but not entirely tamed. I am told that my son was instructed in no uncertain terms regarding personal space.

He is my son, that much is certain. And I love him very much.