Chaos

Me [suggesting books for a first-grader]: What about Tom Swift?
Wife: I don’t know.
Me: I couldn’t get past about page fifteen of Tom Swift and his Motor Cycle. Maybe Tom Swift and the Caves of Nuclear Chaos.

Tornado

Wife: Where do you get a utility bill after that?
Me: “Well, in a couple of days, I’ve got a tornado bill coming… from the Wind Company.”

Honk

Three-Year-Old: A saxophone is a kind of horn. Saxophone! Honk!

What

Seven-Year-Old: Dad?
Me: What?
Wife: Monkey!

Burp

Wife: That all I have to say on the matter.
Me: I’m not sure that falls within the definition of “say.”
Wife: Fine: “burp.”

Peloton

Me: Is that guy joining the peloton on his motorcycle?
Wife: It appears so.

Push

Wife’s Friend: You know what? I’m going to push you down and see what happens.

Ketchup

Drive-Through Attendant: Would you like any salt or ketchup?
Wife: Not today, thanks.
Me [under my breath]: She’ll be back for it tomorrow.

Frankenstyle

Three-Year-Old: I don’t like you, because you’re Frankenstyle!
Me: “Frankenstyle”?
Three-Year-Old: Yes, you’re Frankenstyle! It means you’re not nice!

Slort

Me: It looked like you were going to put those shorts on over your skirt.
Wife: It’s a new thing.
Me: A slort!