Dressing Up

(dinner at restaurant)

Me: “OK, time to head back to the hotel.”

(stands up)

Little Boy, next table, age maybe 5: (loudly) “See! I told you he was wearing a dress! See! See!”

Parents: (eyes wide) “Uh…”

Me: “It’s a kilt. They’re very comfortable. You should try one.”

TB: “Cool.”

Parents: (eyes wide) “Uh…”


Fake News

(at tuck-ins)

Me: “OK, son, it’s time for lights…”

Danger Monkey, age 10: (lying still, eyes closed)

Me: “Oh, I see he is already asleep.”

DM: …

Me: “He’s definitely not faking sleep. He’s definitely really, really asleep.”

DM: …

Me: …

DM: …

Me: …

DM: (cracks smile)

Me: “Very few people smile in their sleep, you know.”

DM: (eyes pop open) “Dang it. I always fall for that.”

Me: “Fall for what? I was just staring at you.”

DM: “Yeah, but I KNEW you were staring at me.”

Me: “You’re not a very good faker, and that’s OK.”

DM: “I know.”

Me: “Besides, your little sister does enough faking for the entire family.”

DM: “She really does.”

Drawn Together

Little Miss Thing, age 7: “Which pen works best?”

Danger Monkey, age 10: “This one.”

Me: “Works best for what?”

LMT: “Writing on my hand.”

Me: “What? No, gross. Don’t do that.”

LMT: “Why not?”

Me: “Uh, well… It looks messy. And, uh… it’s hard to get off. And it just looks bad.”

DM: “We can’t write on ourselves?”

Me: “No.”

LMT: “You mean like your GIANT TATTOO?”

Me: …

Me: …

Me: “OK, but no swear words.”