K3 is home for a week, mostly to take advantage of the laundry facilities, before we pack her up and move her back to Lubbock to start school at Texas Tech in a few weeks.
At any rate, I was on my joyful journey today, sitting in the living room today on the couch (the "davenport" as my Grandmother used to call it). K3 was in the chair on my right, and the wife was on the couch to my left.
As it often happens when any combination of my daughters and wife are in the room, each was talking about different things, and I was listening to neither one talk about either subject. All I hear from both sides is, "natter, natter, natter."
Presently, though, I was shocked back to the here and now when my wife proclaimed that she'd like to read "Fifty Shades of Gray." Like I said, I was daydreaming before that, so I'm not sure where the conversation was before it wandered into literature.
While pondering how, or even if, I should comment on the wife's summer reading list, K3 chimed in that she wants to read it, too.
Now I'm in the middle of something that I really don't want any part of. On the one hand the wife can read whatever she wants. On the other hand, what K3 reads is a concern, even though she's 19, and even if I know (logically) that her little mind has probably pursued trains of thought that I'd really rather not think about (emotionally).
Rallying a bit I said something like, "Never thought I'd see the day when my wife and youngest daughter discuss the pornographic books that they read."
These are the types of things that no one tells you about when you have daughters.
