(from back seat)
Danger Monkey, age 10: “I’ll hit you with my sword.”
Little Miss Thing, age 7: “It’s just pretend.”
DM: “Then I’ll hit… Daddy.”
LMT: “He’s a giant Hagrid. It won’t hurt him. And then he’ll grab you.”
DM: “Then I’ll use a bow and arrow from far away.”
LMT: “No! Don’t use arrows!”
DM: “Why not?”
LMT: “You’ll shoot your eye out, kid.”
Me: “Please don’t eat any of those crackers.”
Danger Monkey, age 10: “OK.”
Little Miss Thing, age 7: “OK.” (cracker dust sprays)
Me: “Uhhh… Do you have a mouthful of crackers?”
LMT: “Mmm… no.” (cracker dust sprays)
Me: “Then what’s in your mouth?”
LMT: “Mmm… just air.” (cracker dust sprays)
Me: “Then why does it smell like crackers every time you talk?”
LMT: …
LMT: “It’s cracker flavored air.”
Me: “I guess I’m feeling a little down. But you know, all I need is some outdoor time, healthy food, and a little rest.”
Brain: “How about some insomnia?”
Stomach: “Here’s a Coke. Now eat all the pork products in the house. Immediately.”
Mother Nature: “Did someone say Ice Storm?”
Very Vocal Viking 