More evidence of an evil genius brewing

The Bandit is going to be eight years old next week. I can’t believe it. Still, he feels like a little boy. He’s missing four teeth. He makes gun and car noises at every opportunity. He’s still a shortie.

BUT, he’s really getting a fun sense of humor of his own. I love seeing him make jokes and such that are all is own – not reflections of his father and I.

For example, he had me cracking up at lunch today.

As is typical, Sassy was glaring at her father over slights real or imagined. Her father informed her if she glared at him one more time, he was going to

No sane person gives up a churro

smack her right there in the restaurant. This is a typical idol threat wherein hardly ever is anyone actually smacked and rarely does the glaring stop for long. Nevertheless, the dance began. He said the words and she softened her gaze. Then the  Bandit started to chant, “Glare, glare, glare.”

I spit my iced tea.

After we’d regained control of ourselves from that incident, My Honey mentioned he was still hungry.

“You want my churro?” The Bandit asked with unusual courtesy?

“Nah,” his father replied.

“Good,” The boy smirked. “The churro is mine.”

That’s much more typical of my son.