Cracked Up

Little Miss Thing, age 7: “Grandma, look! I’m wearing heels!”

Grandma: “Oooh… Pretty. How is your balance?”

(LMT falls)

Grandma: “Oh no! Are you OK?”

LMT: “I fell on my butt.”

Grandma: “Did you hurt your bottom?”

LMT: “It’s OK. It already has a crack in it.”

Grandma: (stunned silence)

Puppy Doctor

Danger Monkey, age 9: “I’ll get it!”

(runs, trips, falls into bookshelf)

DM: “I’m OK.”

Little Miss Thing, age 7: “He’s limping. We need to take him to the vet.”

Me: “I think he’s OK. No need for the vet.”

LMT: “What’s the name for a veterinarian, except for people?”

Me: “Doctor.”

LMT: “Right, a doctor. You should take him to the doctor.”

Me: “I think you already knew what a doctor was.”

LMT: “You’re thinking of someone else. I’m a puppy. I only know veterinarians.”

Me: “Well, then that makes perfect sense.”