It’s A Grey Area

Little Miss Thing, age 7: “Daddy, why do you have white hairs in your beard?”

Danger Monkey, age 10: “He has them in his hair, too. See… there, and there, and there. All over.”

LMT: “They’re kind of silver. How did they get there?”

Me: “They’re called grey hairs. It just happens naturally as we get older. Almost everyone over 40 has some grey hair.”

DM: “Really?”

Me: “Yes, really.”

DM: “So… I’ll get grey hair when I’m old?”

Me: “Yup. It’s totally natural and nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, I kind of like my grey hair.”

LMT: “Everybody?”

Me: “Yup.”

LMT: “Wait a minute… Mom doesn’t have any grey hair.”

Me: (long pause)

Me: “Nope, she sure doesn’t.”

Eat Your Words

Me: “Let’s get junk food. How about… twinkies.”

Danger Monkey, age 10: “How about something a little healthier?”

Me: “Healthier than twinkies? That’s almost anything. Can you think of anything LESS healthy than twinkies?”

DM: “Um… gravel?”

Me: “Trash.”

DM: “A flaming sword.”

Me: “OK, so let’s compromise and get… cookies.”

DM: “How about apples?”

Me: “What?”

DM: “Maybe some kale?”

Me: …

Me: “You are no longer my son.”

DM: “Yay! Now you can’t give me chores!”

Wonderful Wife: “Why has your backpack gotten so heavy again? We need to sort out the non-essentials.”

Danger Monkey, age 10: “It’s all essentials.”

For reference, this is a picture of just the FICTION books that were in his backpack. It seriously weighed almost as much as him.

We might have a reader on our hands. (or three)

Backpack_Fiction