Rooster, in a rage, totally dysregulated, all semantics and pragmatics seemingly flying out the window: "Peaches, I'm going to bank account your butt!"
Rooster, at "average" on the grumpy scale by recent standards, scripting, but pragmatics and sense of humor intact: "Fee, Fie, Fo, Fum, I smell the blood of an Englishman. Be he alive, or be he dead, I'll grind his bones to bake my WAFFLES!"
Rooster, just slightly annoyed, grabs a greeting card from his sister, who was pretending to read it: "NO! That's not what it says. It says, 'Dear Turkey Legs!"
Peaches, in what I must assume was a sincere attempt to be helpful: "Mama, you need a BRA."
I have no idea where they get some of this stuff.
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
ROFL about the "bank account your butt!" Ah, the things our kids can come up with, no?
Post a Comment