Thursday morning in the Turner house. The usual bellowing on my part occurs. “Come on, get dressed”, “Eat your brekky up”. I’m hoping this is the same in most households and I’m not the only woman to turn into a fish-wife for 5 minutes every morning prior to school. What I wouldn’t expect in other houses though is for their 5-year-old son to pat their mother’s backside and burst into rap, “I…like…big…butts and I cannot lie”. I mean, really, what can you say to that?