“I don't know why ladies let men kiss them, anyway.” Lucy reached for the plastic instrument. “Boys are so smelly.”
“Yes, they are.” Harold wondered if his armpits smelled. He hadn't had a chance to shower yet. How to tell a child women didn't mind being kissed if they liked the person? It wasn't the time to explain the theory of attraction. Plenty of time for that when she was much older, when hopefully her mother would have put thought to the task. “You just remember that when you're older.”
“Older? Why?” She made a half-jump for the kazoo, ended up with her feet tangled in the duvet and fell over. Fortunately, she stayed on the bed and didn't fall off.
“Well...” Harold pursed his lips. Why had he said that? Why not leave the subject alone when he had the chance. “Boys are like broccoli. You hate eating it for ages and then one day you try a piece and suddenly you like it after all.”
Lucy's face was a picture of loathing. “I'll never like broccoli.”
“That's fine too.” Harold helped her upright and let the take the vile instrument back. “Some girls never like broccoli. Others prefer cauliflower.”
She gave an experimental toot on the kazoo. “I don't like that either. I like peas, though.”
“Peas are good, too.” He smiled at her wondering, if men were broccoli and women were cauliflower, what peas might be a stand-in for. Cats, hopefully. Perhaps she was destined to become a cat lady. “Come on, sunshine. Time to get up and go to work.”