Me: “How was gymnastics?”
Little Miss Thing, age 5: “I’m really good at it. And they make us do blah blah blah. You know how it goes.” (runs off to play)
Me: “I feel like blah blah blah means I’m not cool enough for that level of detail.”
Wonderful Wife: “Me neither. I got the same version. Maybe some day we’ll be cool enough.”
Me: “Probably not.”
Me: “You have to clean up all those art supplies before you can do anything else.”
Little Miss Thing, age 5: “ANYTHING?”
Me: “Yes, anything.”
LMT: “Can we blink?”
Danger Monkey, age 8: “I hope we can breathe.”
Me: “Just clean it up.”
DM: “My cells are all moving around.”
LMT: “Can we poop?” (much giggling)
Me: “Love you.”
My Oldest, age 14: “How much?”
Me: “Should you die, I will avenge your death in a murderous rage.”
Oldest: “Good… But don’t get caught. And try to invent a poison that makes them cough up glitter as they die.”
Me: “As you wish.”
Very Vocal Viking 