Each summer, my husband spends one weekday doing something fun with each child alone. Friday was Petunia's day, and Thing Two is still at his grandparents' (to my everlasting guilt, the break from constant arguing has been welcome) so it was just me and Thing One that afternoon. I had to do a little furniture shopping, so I picked him up after golf camp and we looked at a bunch of sofas, then grabbed some caches and frozen yogurt together as a reward for our diligence.
As luck would have it, there was a Hooters across the parking lot from the frozen yogurt place, and Thing One asked about it. I try to answer his questions honestly, so I explained that "hooters" is a slang term for breasts and that this is a restaurant where the servers are women who wear tight and revealing clothing. Without missing a beat, and in dead seriousness, he replied, "What's the point of that??"
Guess I don't have to worry about him and girls for a while yet!