"What are you writing, Uncle Biscuit?" (Don't go there.) I have never had the character to generate and raise offspring, so the family lent them to me, letting me 'babysit' while they did christmas shopping. Not that at five the twins were babies any more, but the language lacks synonyms with increasing age, and I was certainly not 'chaperone' yet. A neighbouring family had taken advantage of the transport and left a couple more offspring.
"I'm writing dragons right now.' In a note book, with paragraphs scribbled out or added, none of the elegance of computer editing.
"Ooh, can you read us some?" Reading, yes - but books with big letters and bigger pictures. And the twins spoke Yorkshire as their first language, while for the neighbours it was probably Urdu.
Now, I have never stinted on my vocabulary, but am vain enough that I like showing off, so "If there are any difficult words you don't understand, stop me, and I'll explain. It's no problem, I wasn't writing it as a children's story." Making it a challenge to them, rather than me. I concentrated on infant dragons - Solfrenia's first day at school, Hoopy's flying lesson - but I just generate heavyweight words. Not 'run, Spot, run' writing at all. Yet there were no interruptions, no puzzlement on young faces; the story was traversing the word barrier into thought without notable effort. Oh, reading some of the terms would have been work, but delivered as audio content? Direct osmotic absorption, even the next door but twos.
Difficult words drop you out of a story when you are already not deeply immersed, and are more often an excuse than truly a reason for losing the contact.