I wish I'd kept a journal over the years of all the things I've misheard. There have been a lot, often followed by me repeating what I thought I heard and the sayer saying, "What on earth does that mean?" And I would say, "I don't know that's why I asked."
Perhaps it's because I'm hard of hearing. I already told you that I got the lyrics to songs wrong. Some of them have been pretty hysterical, especially if the speaker was British or Irish or Australian. I have trouble sometimes following what is being said which is more upsetting to me than anyone else, trust me. I would just figure it was a foreign idiom I wasn't picking up on when, in fact, they were probably just asking me for the correct time or if they could borrow the empty chair at my table.
Nevertheless, baby talk is really helping me to understand what seems to be a foreign language. Baby says, "Bless you" every time I sneeze, and she says, "Hush!" when we get to that page in Goodnight Moon. Yes, she's a genius. Her mother, on the other hand, still needs a little work when the professor is discussing the ascending order of numbers and percentiles.