My son bursts out of the hallway and tears into the living room, yelling his head off and waving his arms in his typical, I-totally-believe-I-am-ten-feet-rather-than-two-feet-tall role as “Punisher”.

Ralph: “What the hell is wrong with him?”

Kelly [focussing a keen eye]: “Did you tighten his pigtails? That’s always an unpopular move.”

Ralph: “Oh! Yeah, I did. Okay.”

Drowned rat.

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