(The following blog is rated PG for eight-year-old potty-humor, tasteless product placement, Easter violence, one mention of illegal drugs, and one bizarre reference to neck beards.)
It occurs to me that Eric and Quentin Tarantino should never ever meet. Ever. The result would be something along the lines of “Calvin & Hobbes” meets “Kill Bill.” Here’s the latest Eric-Awesomeness:
At supper (that’s what you folks north of San Antone call “dinner”):
“Sit down, Eric.”
“That’s not on my agenda.”
“I did not ask about your ‘agenda’. I don’t care about your ‘agenda’. Put your stinkin’ carcass in that chair and eat!”
“I’m not dead!”
(Laughter from Peanut Gallery.)
“You’re about to be…”
Clik here to view.
Starring Eric, as The Incredible…Eric.
Coming in from an afternoon outside:
“Hey, I’ve got some essence of the park in my shoe.”
After a particularly tough phonics lesson:
“I give up on today. Can we fast-forward to tomorrow?”
While watching Star Trek: The Next Generation:
“I like Data. He’s groovy. He likes science. He’s my favorite.” (Is it weird that I’m secretly proud of my kid for utilizing the word “groovy”?)
On his way to the tinkletorium, the boy yells:
“I’m going to drop my daily deuce!”
I made the mistake of telling Eric he was famous on my blog. His response:
“Why don’t I have a million dollars?”
“Why don’t I?” I responded. “It’s my blog!”
“You just write it. I’m the one that says it!” He sighs audibly. “Nobody cares about comedy these days.”
Waving his socks around like a crazy man:
“Look! I’ve got sock-chucks!”
** B o n u s F e a t u r e s **
Allyson: “There’s a new season of Warehouse 13 starting April 29th!”
Kenton: “There’s a new season of me starting April 5th!”
Kenton, while reading “Where the Sidewalk Ends“:
“It’s hard for me to stop reading this.”
Clik here to view.
Also starring Kenton, as Captain America, and Ally, as Batman…duh.
Another recent supper conversation:
“Mom, would you bail me out of jail?”
“Depends on why you were put in jail.”
“What if I was joy-riding?”
“No.”
“What if I was framed for knocking off a bank? Or caught in a car with bad kids who had drugs?”
“If I was convinced of your innocence, I’d bail you out,” I said.
“So, what you’re saying is you’ll only bail me out if I’m innocent? What kind of mother are you?!? You’re gonna leave me in jail? With a big fat sweaty man with a neck beard who keeps asking me if I want some candy and some Lindsay Lohan type??”
“Mom, what if she was framed for joy-riding?” Kenton asked.
Allyson scolds her father:
“Dad. This is not band practice. You are not in a garage. And it is not 1984.”