Thrice

Little Miss Thing, age 7: “I’m almost done reading Harry Potter 3. It has, like, a hundred chapters.”

Danger Monkey, age 9: “No, it only has 22 chapters.”

Me: “Are you sure?”

LMT: (flipping pages) “Yep. He’s right.”

Me: “How did you know that?”

DM: “I don’t know.”

Me: “How long has it been since you’ve read that book?”

DM: “About a year.”

Me: “How many times have you read it?”

DM: “Hmmm… thrice.”

(long pause)

Me: “I love being your dad. You’re a cool little dude. And using words like “thrice” makes your mom REALLY happy.”

Pole Magic

Danger Monkey, age 9: “If we had roads, and a whole year, could we ride our bikes all the way to the North Pole?”

Me: “Goodness no. The poles are way too cold for human life.”

Little Miss Thing, age 6: “Then how does Santa live there?!?”

Me: “It really doesn’t make much sense, does it?”

(long pause)

Me: “How do you think it works?”

LMT: “I think he wears 200 coats and that’s why he looks so fat.”

Me: “Yep. I think you figured it out.”

Every Day

Me: “Give it up.”

Large Institutional TP dispenser: “No.”

Me: “I just want some TP. You’re a TP dispenser. So, dispense already.”

TPD: “No.”

Me: “C’mon, I’ve spun this roll all the way around twelve times, both ways. I don’t understand how I’m supposed to even…”

TPD: “No.”

Me: “Look, I’m just a guy trying to get back to his work week. Let’s get this over with, and move on with our lives. I’m not asking for much. Frankly, I’ve been quite reasonable. Now… Give. Me. The. TP!”

TPD: “No.”

Me: (pause) “OK… please?”

TPD: (long pause) “No.”

Me: “You have one job! ONE JOB!!!”