My son, the comedian
May. 17th, 2005 09:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
So, it's bedtime right now, and Charlie, as per his usual stall tatics, says he is hungry. So I tell him he can go downstairs and get something to eat - usually he'll get a piece of bread. He comes back up with this mini-pack of Pringles, which is okay, but then I realise that the box of the packets of mini-pack of Pringles is on top of the refrigerator.
"Charlie," I ask, "how did you get that package of chips?" knowing full well that entry to the top of the refrigerator would take action that I've told him before he wasn't allowed to do.
His reply?
"Can't talk, eating."
"Charlie," I ask, "how did you get that package of chips?" knowing full well that entry to the top of the refrigerator would take action that I've told him before he wasn't allowed to do.
His reply?
"Can't talk, eating."