Conspiracy

Twelve-Year-Old: Let’s have a conspiracy.

Dinner

Friend: Next time I’ll ask for my standard dinner breast.
…
Hmmm… blog?
Me: So let it be written. So let it be done.

Parachuting

Eight-Year-Old: Dad?
Me: Yes?
Eight-Year-Old: Would you have a parachuting police Corgi as a pet?
Twelve-Year-Old: Who wouldn’t?

Pure

Me: Crapping pure bilirubin.

Chalice

Friend: If you pour water from the chalice on the arm, do you get two Gnashs?

Heads

Me: Two heads, one hand.

Smear

Me: Oh, actually I parked beside that banana peel again, a couple weeks later, it was just like this black smear.

Beside Fruit

Me: Looks like it’s Park Beside Fruit Day.
Twelve-Year-Old: Absolutely.
Me: Blog.
…
Eight-Year-Old: What? You should write that on your blog.

Companion

Eight-Year-Old: It looks like somebody put dirt in a companion cube.

Times

Twelve-Year-Old: I mean, it is medieval times.