I wish I did as well in Algebra as I do in church!
The 14 y.o.
The 7 y.o.: I don’t feel very good. My tummy is upset. I think I need a bucket.
The 11 y.o.: We’re in a car. Don’t vomit inside the car! Step 1: Push the button so the window comes down. Step 2: Stick your head out of the open window. Step 3: Proceed with puking. Repeat as often as necessary.
The 14 y.o.: Step 4. Act like nothing happened.
The Dad: Since it’s a holiday weekend, I’m going to bring everyone breakfast in bed.
The Mom: What’re you cooking?
The Dad: I’m getting it from the diner. So you can look at their menu online and get whatever you want.
The 14 y.o.: What? Reading? <insert teenage sound of disgust> Seriously? I have to read?
The Dad: Or I can pull up the children’s menu so you can just point at a picture instead.
The Mom: I had fish tacos for lunch. They were delicious!
The 10 y.o.: Were they soft shell or deep-fried?
The Mom: Soft. It was a freshly made tortilla.
The 10 y.o.: I wonder which came first – the Spanish tortilla or Greek pita. They seem to be derived from a common idea with flour and water as their main ingredients. What do you think?
The Mom: I think you need to ask the Internet. I am not smarter than my 5th grader, but the collective knowledge of the planet may be.
The Mom: Could ONE of you three just get on with stacking the dishwasher after dinner? Dad and I make the money, buy the food, and cook your dinner every night – the least you could do is tidy up afterwards without us begging you to just get it done. And another thing – push your chairs under the table after you are done eating. Who left the sliding door unlocked and open? Seriously – WERE YOU BORN IN A BARN?
The 7 y.o. (thoughtfully): No. But Jesus was.