(after delivering bowls of rice pudding covered in fresh raspberry sauce)
Dad: (whispering to RJ) I think it’s monkey brains.
RJ: (whispering) No. It’s not.
(a few minutes later)
RJ: (yelling) It’s Santa brains!!!
Dad: But doesn’t Santa need them?
LR: Naah. He’s done that trip so many times, he doesn’t need brains to know where to go.
RJ: He’s so good, he doesn’t need them, and we get to eat them up!
(during breakfast)
RJ: Braaaaains…. Braaaains… I … need … brains…
Dad: Have you checked your sister? She might have some to spare.
RJ: (turning to LR) Braaaains?
LR: Sorry RJ. I need all my brains.
RJ: Braaaains…
Dad: How about the dog? Actually, forget that. She doesn’t have any brains.
LR: (protesting) Yes she does!!!
RJ: Braaaains…
Mum: Here you go RJ. Porridge for us, and a big fresh bowl of brains for you.
RJ: Thank you mummie zombie.
Mum: You’re welcome little zombie.
(over breakfast)
RJ: The doctor chopped my head off one day. Want to know why?
Dad: Sure. Why’d he do that?
RJ: I was bumping into everything and falling over too much. They chopped it off so they could look at my brain.
Dad: Was everything okay in there?
RJ: No. They had to put in a new one. I don’t bump into things now…
RJ: … It’s also better at remembering to put shoes on when I go outside and watching out for snakes.
