The following conversation happened this evening. It is also a prime example of why I really shouldn't homeschool our oldest punk- I can't even teach a three year old.
Littlest Punk (AKA #2): Do you see the potato Dadda?
Charley: What potato?
#2: That potato (while pointing at the TV)
Charley: Oh do you mean the volcano?
#2: No, its a potato. Can you say po-tay-toe?
Charley: Yep I can say potato but that is, in fact, a volcano.
#2: No Dadda, Momma said that is a po-tay-toe....
Charley: (scowling in my general direction) Well, Momma might be wrong on this one...
#2: No Dadda, your wrong! Say po-tay-toe! Say it!
More scowling. And maybe an evil eye. In my own defense, I do not recall ever telling her a volcano was a potato. Or ever talking to her about volcanoes in general. Then the madness continues when my phone vibrated its self off the table.
#2: Momma, your walkie talkie is moving!
Me: Oh thats nice dear,
#2: Here Momma, its your walkie talkie!
Me: Ok, just put it on the table.
Charley: Geesh B-Dub, what a nice walkie talkie you have.
Me: Huh? I'm sorry, what are we talking about, I wasn't exactly paying any attention to you two.
Charley: (more scowling)
Typical night in our house. Welcome.