A recent memory:
We have lunch once a month with a couple from a sister congregation. This had started when Friend Husband preached once a month at a neighboring congregation and the preacher from that congregation had us over to lunch between our first service and their second (where FH preached). They also invited this other couple, so the three families would lunch together once a month. The preacher and his wife moved to Texas but we and the other couple continue the tradition. So...
Yesterday was our Sunday to lunch with the Watsons. We met them, their daughter, and some other friends from their congregation at Wendy's. We generally have a pretty boisterous time. Good times. As is per usual, the women and the men separated into different groups so we were having some sort of raucous discussion when Rachel, my easily-embarrassed 12-year-old walked up. Friend Husband had given the children Frosties a while back and her question when she walked up was, "Do I have a mustache?"
My answer? "Not yet, but give it 30 years."
The pregnant pause was followed by my daughter's indignant squawk, "Mother! I meant now! A Frostie mustache!"
"I know," I said with a smug look on my face.
The rest of the women burst out laughing, me along with them, to be followed by the easily-embarrassed 12-year-old.