A neighbor's six-year-old nephew was over tonight, and he introduced me to a four-year-old girl who I hadn't met.
"This is Kylie," he said. "She's my foster sister."
Immediately wishing he hadn't made that distinction right in front of her, but beginning to privately debate the merits of euphemism vs. unflinching realism, I nearly hit the floor when he added coolly, also right in front of her, "We might adopt her, and we might not."