Me: “Are you going to wear that?”
Me: “Well, at least comb your hair.”
Son: “Why? We are just going to Wal-Mart.”
I fully expect to someday see his picture on the internet under the heading “The People of Wal-Mart.
* * *
[Sound of crashing/spilling from upstairs . . . ]
Child 1: “Uh Oh!”
Wife: “What spilled up there?”
Child 2: “Toxic acid and we will all be dead in minutes.”
At least this way I won’t have to worry about seeing pictures of my kids on The People of Wal-Mart.