Last weekend we went to Akron for a wedding. On Friday we stopped at my uncle's house to drop our kids off, and they stayed with him Saturday while we went to the wedding and stayed in a hotel that had free shuttle service to and from the reception (it's like getting an official license to drink yourself silly).
I'll tell you about the wedding later. This story is about the kids' experience at my uncle's house, and how it affected my relationship with my Grandma. You're probably wondering what this has to do with the definition of prostitution....
The backstory: We met at my Grandma's house to pick the kids up. I had to go to Grandma's house, there was a serious issue I needed to confront. You see, she gets online sometimes. And she read this post about my last trip to my uncle's house. And while she does get online, she does not get my sense of humor. She got to the part about "Lila smoked some really strong crack" and of course she took it literally and promptly called my aunt to tell her that I was no family man like I pretend to be, I took the kids to a crack-house before I went home.
To my aunt, this was way to good to quash, so she didn't even try to explain it to Grandma. Instead, she called me, laughing so hard she could barely speak and leaving it up to me to clear my name.
We got to Grandma's house before my uncle and the kids did, and I took Lila (our GPS) inside to show it to Grandma and explain such concepts as metaphors and hyperbole. No sooner had I re-polished my tarnished image than my aunt and uncle arrived with the kids.
First thing was hugs and kisses for the boys (had to re-establish the fact that I am a family man). The kids ran off to play Grandma's piano.
"Oh, in case it comes up," my Uncle said, glancing over his shoulder to make sure the kids were out of hearing range, "prostitution is not wearing your seat belt."
To make a short story long, here's how this little word game unfolded:
My Aunt and Uncle were channel surfing with the kids when my older son saw COPS on the cable guide. He loves that show, he first saw it when he was staying at my in-law's house. I watched it with him several times, eventually drawing the conclusions that 1) I didn't want to keep explaining what was happening and why, and 2) the explanations are not suitable for a seven-year-old anyway.
I didn't think to tell my Uncle this beforehand.
So the first scene in COPS was the officers busting a car full of hookers.
"Why are they getting arrested?" My son asked.
"They weren't wearing their seatbelts," was the evasive answer given.
A few minutes later the officer said, "We're going to have to take you in on charges of prostitution."
My son drew the only conclusion he could, given the information available to him at the time. "Prostitution? So that's what it's called when you don't wear your seat belt."
Nobody contradicted his logic. However, my Grandma overheard my Uncle telling me this, and now she believes that I am somehow involved in prostitution. So apparently I went from socializing with crack-ho's to just ho's. And for the record, Grandma knows prostitution has nothing to do with seat belts.