We're fans of the pop-in. Some people aren't, I know - but our policy is, if you're in our neck of the woods, don't even worry about calling. Just pop-in. Since we don't get out of the house much these days, it's great when the people come to us.

But what are the odds of having three pop-ins in one night? Friday evening, three of Patrick's friends from school came by to hang out. One of the girls who stopped by, Hannah, recently got back from a trip to Europe. She backpacked it all over the place, including Libya, where her family is originally from. Her dad came to the US on a student visa and just... stayed. I don't blame him. From what she said, it sounded pretty scary over there. Anyway, I asked her if the language barrier was difficult, and she replied that it wasn't because she spoke Arabic.

So, of course, here comes my inner child, rushing forward enthusiastically.

Inner Child: She can speak another language? Aw COOL!! Get her to say - "the walls are yellow".

Me: No. Absolutely not. We're not seven years old, you know.

IC: Please? Pretty please? You never let me do anything.

Me: She'll think we're stupid! She probably gets asked to do that all the time, and we're not gonna bug her! Just be cool!

IC: *pouting* Could you at least ask her to say a dirty word in arabic?

Me: Unbelievable. You need to go back where you came from, right now.

IC: You used to be fun, you know. We got to do all kinds of stuff. Remember when you learned what "caca torra" meant? That was awesome.

Me: I know you may find this hard to believe, but I am not interested in accumulating any more foreign swear words. Now sit down and be quiet, or else!

IC: Or else what? I'm not scared of you.

Me: You should be. Wait, what am I doing? I'm not arguing with you anymore. Go away. I've already missed a good fifteen minutes of what she was saying just having this ridiculous conversation with you!

IC: Hmph.

My innerchild then stomped off, glaring at me over her shoulder until she was out of sight.

Aside from the occasional mumble offstage, she was relatively quiet for the rest of the evening.

She did come back out to eat some yummy baklava, and by then had forgotten all about dirty arabic words. That's one of the nice things about my innerchild. Along with her penchant for sweets, she also has a short attention span.

So. Now you've met my innerchild.

And with that sentence, I have to wonder if I'm blogging just a little too much these days.