Where acne and death become confused.

This is the whispered conversation Caleb and I had during the sacrament today:

C: Mama, have you ever had the sids?

M, thinking Obviously not since I've grown to adulthood: SIDS?

C: Yeah, the sids.

M: ... What do you mean?

C: [Our nearly fourteen-year-old neighbor] says he has the sids.

M, in continuing bewilderment: What are the sids?

C: Those red marks all over his face.

M: Oh! Zits!

C: Yeah. Sids.

M: Zzzzzzits. With a z.

C, still whispering: Yeah. Ssssssits.

[There followed a brief explanation of teenagerhood and skin changes.]