A Little Forced

Danger Monkey, age 9: “Hey, did you know I can use The Force?”

Little Miss Thing, age 7: “You can? Really?”

DM: “Yeah, watch.” (licks his palm and starts moving it toward her face)

LMT: “Aaaagh!!!” (runs away)

DM: (chuckles) “I told you!”

… moments later …

DM: “Hey, Dad. Did you know I can use The Force?”

Me: “Sorry, doesn’t work on Dads.”

DM: (licks both palms, moves toward my face) “Look… I’m using The Force!”

Me: (blank stare)

DM: (touches my face with spit hands) “But… you didn’t move.”

Me: “I told you. I’ve wiped your butt, which is much worse. Also, I had a little brother, so I’m immune to most sibling torture methods.”

DM: (slow blink)

DM: “Hey, Mom…”

That Can’t Be It

Me: (groaning)

Danger Monkey, age 9: “Why are your muscles so sore?”

Me: “I lifted a lot of weights at the gym last night, remember?”

DM: “My muscles don’t get sore like that.”

Me: “You’re young. And mine don’t hurt nearly as much as I thought they would.”

DM: “Why not?”

Me: “Maybe I’m more in shape than I thought.”

DM: “No, that can’t be it.”

Me: (glaring)