Oct 10, 2008 15:26
I mess with my oldest daughter's head occasionally. I can't help it. I'll be minding my own business, and suddenly find myself in the middle of messing with her brain, like happened yesterday evening:
Morgan: "Daddy, can you change the channel to a Morgan show?" (i.e., children's programming. Morgan is Not Allowed to touch the satellite remote, for damned good reasons.)
Me: (disengeneously) "Well, all right. Do we need to get the buttfor?"
Morgan: "What's a butt for?"
Me: "Pooping, mostly."
After laying this one on her, I watched with anticipation as her four year-old brain worked rapidly thru the layers of what had just happened, and then I pretty much fell apart laughing when she "got it" and yelled "DADDY!!" in tones of feminine outrage familiar to me from years of similar foolishness perpetrated on... well pretty much everyone female likely to read this posting, anyways.
Once, when someone commented on how well I seemed to relate with small children, that Rat's wife, Stacey, immediately retorted "Yeah, well considering he operates mentally around their level most of the time, it's not much of a surprise."