Pet the Vet

Me: “You are smart, and strong, and working hard in school, and that means you can do and be whatever you want when you grow up.”

Little Miss Thing, age 7: “I’m going to be a veterinarian!”

Me: “Oh, good!”

LMT: “I’ll feed all the animals and pet them for about… probably two hours. Then I’ll go home and play with my friends.”

Me: “That sounds nice. I think you’ll make a good Vet. But you know, sometimes the animals are sick and need medicine, or even surgery.”

LMT: “Why?”

Me: “They get sick or hurt just like people do sometimes. And they need a Veterinarian to help them get better.”

(long pause)

LMT: “I’ll pay someone else to do that part.”

Me: “Sounds good.”

Where Does It Go?

Me: “Dinner time, kids!”

Danger Monkey, age 9: “Good, I’m really hungry!”

DM: (noisily devours two plates of food)

DM: “I drank all my milk, now can I have a glass of cider?”

Me: “You just ate your body weight in food. You literally ate more than I did. Where could you possibly put a glass of cider?”

DM: “It will pour into the cracks between the food.”

DM: (chugs large glass of cider)

DM: “Can I have some Halloween candy?”

Me: (wide eyed stare)

Me: “Sure, but not too much, OK?”

DM: “Yay!” (runs off)

Me: “He may be going through a growth spurt.”

Wonderful Wife: “Oh, do you think?”

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…”