Chips on My Shoulder

My Oldest, age 16: (walks in eating potato chips) “Hey, since when do you hide potato chips from us?”

Me: “SHHHHH!”

Me: (whispering) “I don’t hide them. I just… store them… strategically. And please be quiet before the others hear you.”

My Oldest: “This from the guy who tells us to not keep secrets. Nice.”

Me: “Hey, now. I only hide them because you kids snarf them up immediately as soon as you know they’re in the house. It’s one of my only treats, so I like to have some stick around in the house longer than 10 minutes.”

My Oldest: “Whatever. You can hide all the BBQ chips you want, I just want the plain ones.”

Danger Monkey, age 10: (from the other room) “We have BBQ chips! Woo-hoo!”

Me: (glaring)

My Oldest: (batting eye lashes) “Love you, Daddy.” (walks away)

 

Size Matters

Me: “Good morning. Is this where you sell convention t-shirts, here at the registration desk?”

Nice Registration Lady: “Yes it is! Would you like one?”

Me: “Yes, please. I’d like to buy a 5XL, or as I like to call it — Viking Medium.”

NRL: “So then what’s 4XL called –Delicate Little Flower?”

Me: “I like that. I like that a lot. You’d make a Badass Lady Viking.”

NRL: “That’s the 3XL.”

Me: (long pause)

Me: “You just really get me.”