I was driving, trying to control my cup of coffee, answer my mobile, and navigate the interstate in peak-hour traffic. The phone flashed with Carrie's name, and I answered to have Carrie laughing, wanting to tell me a story of her morning where her daughter Kate was very quiet, the quiet where you automatically assume a toddler is smearing feces on the wall in portraits of fairies, and sigh a big sigh when they are just tearing into a box of sugary cereal and have it spread all over the kitchen floor.
"All of a sudden Kate came into the bathroom and said, 'Mommy, hands! Hands!' I smelled them it wasn't any sort of body lotion, and knew she hadn't touched Jerms' cologne or anything like that. You can only guess what she got into."
I cackled. "Does it start with Kentucky and end with Jelly?"
"Yes! She got into our drawer and found the KY, and said 'Kate, are your hands warm?' and she said 'Hands warm! Hands hot, Mommy'".
"You use the warming KY, Carrie? Perhaps I'm out of the sexual loop, but that stuff wasn't around when I was having regular sex."
"Well, you know, ever since having Kate things have been a little different in that part of my body."
And somehow, I don't recall how, but we were discussing the usage of KY and those special drawers that women have, where the toys are located and so are special lotions. Then this was the kicker. Carrie continued, "Ours has books in it, and you know, hand-held solitaire games."
I nearly swung into the car in the lane to my left as I laughed. "I've never heard a vibrator called that as a joke name."
"No! It's not a vibrator. We actually have hand-held solitaire games in our drawer..."