Lidia had just gotten her shirt on this morning when she came out of her room. She put her hand under her shirt with a frowny look on her face, as though something on her shirt was bugging her, and said “My breasts are grumpy.”

Mom did a double take.

“What did you just say?”  I asked, thinking I didn’t hear her right.

“My breasts are grumpy,” she repeats, pinching the aforementioned area as she spoke.

“Oh” I replied, swallowing a laugh.

What am I supposed to say to that one?