Dinner with S and K, ages 10 and 9:
S: I don’t need the kids’ menu. Tell her I need a big menu.
K: Do they have pizza here?
Me: Yes, on the kids’ menu.
K: I don’t want it from the kids’ menu. I want it from the real menu.
Me: They don’t have it on the real menu.
S: K, all you ever want is pizza. Sarah, tell her she has to eat something else.
K: Their crayons aren’t very good here.
S: I’m not even hungry. I had ribs and a milkshake for lunch. I want something kind of light.
Me: They have soup, salad and sandwiches on the back page of the menu.
S (to waiter): I’ll have a barbecue burger, with extra barbecue sauce, please.
K: I need more ketchup.
S: That is so gross, K. No one puts ketchup on their pizza.
Me: Please eat the layer of ketchup already on your pizza first.
K: When I grow up, I’m going to drive a red Lexus convertible with my name spelled out in flames on the side, and my license plate will say “BOYS R TOYS.”
S: Sarah, what does constipated mean?