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?