Yesterday we had monkey balls at our house.
You probably know what I’m talking about. Marshmallows wrapped in biscuits cooked in sugar, cinnamon, and butter.
Some people call this tasty little conglomerate monkey bread.
Those people are unimaginative.
Anyway, breakfast served up a rapid-fire series of “That’s what she said” moments for Kick Ass Wife and me. We barely had time to savor one before another was zinging our way.
I think it was the monkey balls.
Here’s a sampler platter. As you read each one, please feel free to murmur ”TWSS” under your breath like KAW and I do.
The Hellcat, knowing her dad’s appetite for monkey balls, and pretty much anything, really, was concerned that there would not be enough left for her to have more:
KAW: “I will not let Dad eat all the monkey balls.”
Hellcat: “You need to spank Dad if he eats it all.”
KAW: “I will.”
Slim to me after I dished him up a second helping:
“You gave me like 10 inches of this thing!”
Perpetual Motion explaining to KAW why he wouldn’t eat something on his plate:
“But it’s too hard!”
KAW explaining to the Hellcat why Tax Credit #4 didn’t need a second helping of monkey balls:
“I already gave him two bowls of Pirate’s Booty this morning.”
(Pirate’s Booty, by the way, is some sort of cheesy rice cake/popcorn like stuff with a phenomenally cool name.)
And speaking of phenomenally cool name, click here to read about a 6-year-old’s experience with Blair’s After Death Sauce, which his dad, Lloyd, thankfully documented and shared with us at StuffKidsWrite.com. You’ll be glad.
And after that, click here to see the note that 8-year-old MM had to write home because he was licking his elbow rather than spending his time wisely, whatever that means.
Elbow licking or otherwise, have a great Monday, everyone. And spend your time wisely…