We were having a play picnic and Martin pretended to cut off his ear and put it in our picnic basket.  I told him that it wouldn't make a very good lunch, and who did he think he was, Vincent van Gogh?  He said, no, but who was that guy.  We talked about the artist for awhile, how he was fantastic, but also maybe a little crazy - cutting off his ear and sending it to his girlfriend.  Martin laughed, saying that wouldn't be a good gift for a girl.  And then we talked, just joking at first:

Me: Martin, do you have a girlfriend?
Martin: Yes.
Me: Really, who is it?
Martin: Ashley.
Me: How do you know she is your girlfriend?
Martin: She talks to me and says Martin and that's me.
Me: What does she look like?
Martin: Her hair is golden and yesterday she wore a pink sweater.

And then I sat silently, just giving him a little smile and then looking away.  Inside I was gushing and proud and squealy and wanted to pepper him with questions.  Instead, I asked him to make me a sandwich with NO ear.  After all, I don't want this to be the last time he ever tells me about a girl.