Threatening the Hot Dogs

Bloggified by Jake on Wednesday, March 26, 2008

This afternoon, my son had hot dogs for lunch. I gave him two, only because when I asked if he wanted one or two, he demanded three. It was easier to waste a hot dog than get into revive the never-ending argument that arises whenever I ask questions regarding quantities and food.

"Do you want two chicken nuggets or three?"
"Thirteen."
"You don't need your own order of crab puffs. We can share. There are eight in an order."
"I am going to eat nine."
"How many pancakes do you want?"
"Fourty-seven pounds."
"What size cup do you want for your hot chocolate?"
"Fourteen hours."


Any way, he wanted two hot dogs on buns with ketchup. I made him clarify this order three times, which got me treated about the same way you'd treat a waitress who asked you three times, "Now can you repeat that, because I just don't really think that's what you want and if you don't eat it, I'm not going to be happy. And don't try to feed it to the dogs either!"

So as I'm pulling the first one from the pan of water on the stove, he watches and in a deep voice growls, "Now I have you! Into my ketchup. You are trapped! Haw haw haw haw haw!" On the second, he repeats exactly the same thing, then looks at me and, in his normal voice, giggles, "What? They're trapped in the ketchup and they can't get out..." Then he switched back to the deep voice and laughed, "Haw haw haw haw haw."

I'm not sure what made it so hilarious, but I'm sure it's the kind of thing his mother will blame me for.

(In case you couldn't guess from the above post, revisions are not going well.)

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