(while eating lunch)
Dad: (with mock concern) RJ, you’re wearing the birthday hat, but it’s not your birthday yet!
RJ: (silently keeps eating)
Dad: You can’t wear that today. You’ve got half a day to go!
RJ looks Dad in the eye, reaches his hands up to the hat and tips it to the left, precariously balancing it on one side of his head… Then grins.
RJ: (grinning) If it’s half a day to my birthday, then I can half wear it. So there!
(while walking to lunch)
RJ: (excited) Dad. Stop here! I want to show you something!
Dad: Yeah? What’s up?
RJ: (pointing to ground) Right here. See? This metal plate. It’s a lid to something; you can open it!
Dad: Sure. I guess you could… but…
RJ: (starts struggling to lift heavy plate steel cover) Look! There are no nails or anything holding it down, you can just…
Dad: (worried about RJ’s fingers being crushed) Stop, RJ! Wait! Wait!… Arrgh… Okay, let me help.
(Dad decides it’s easier to help RJ lift the cover safely than to talk him out of it… revealing a dark hole filled with a crawling mass of hundreds of cockroaches and crickets, who decide to make a break for it out of the hole.)
RJ & Dad: ………. Yeeeaaarrrckk! …………..
(RJ wisely jumps back. Dad is left to slowly and carefully replace the heavy steel cover, while dodging the rush of panicked roaches that have decided his shoes would make a terrific new hiding place).
RJ: (freaking out) Dad! Who are we going to tell about this? What can we do?
Dad: What do you mean? It’s their home. They obviously love it there. We can just leave them alone.
RJ: (incredulous) Are you crazy, man?! They’ll keep growing in there and growing and growing! They’ll take over the whole city! All the shops! Everything!
Dad: RJ, calm down! Have a look over there — there’s another hole. I think I see one over there too and another over there. They’re all probably full of these guys, and they’ve been like this for ages.
RJ: This is a really big deal! I can’t believe you’re not doing anything!
Dad: It’s fine, mate. Really.
RJ: It is NOT fine! My favorite restaurant is right across the road!
Dad: All ready for T-Ball practice?
RJ: Yeah. I know how I can beat everyone at it too.
Dad: Really? How are you going to do that?
RJ: (rubbing hands and looking extremely mischievous) I have a secret weapon…
RJ: … I call it… Lunch.
(while packing lunches for school)
Dad: So RJ, what do you want for lunch?
RJ: Hmmm… How about… chip?
Dad: No chips, something else?
RJ: Just grab a potato, then you slice it nice and thin…
Dad: (pointing to loaf of sliced bread) How about this instead?
Now in front of me is a very rare Brazilian Potato. I carefully open the wrapping, and then large chips just peel away. Amazing stuff! Greatest invention since…RJ: (sternly) That’s not a Brazilian potato. That’s impossible.
Dad: What do you mean?
RJ: Don’t you remember the song? The Brazil song?
RJ: (singing) No tea…. Or tomato juice…
You’ll see… No potato juice…RJ: No potato juice means no potatoes. Sorry.
Dad: You’re right… My mistake — wrong South American country. Now in front of me is a very rare Bolivian Potato…
(while eating lunch)
Teacher: Hi RJ! We’re going to be talking about paint today and where it comes from. Do you have any ideas on how to make paint?
RJ: (nonchalantly) Oh yeah. You just need some eye dust and then some blood and then you mix it together and put it all over your hands and you can make handprints.
Teacher: So what colour would that paint be?
RJ: Red… Dark red.
Teacher: That’s a pretty good idea. What about if you wanted some other colour though?
RJ: (thinking) Hmm…
RJ: You just need different coloured eye dust!
Teacher: But where do you get coloured eye dust from?
RJ: Easy! From eyeballs… from dead people!
(while eating lunch)
(RJ sits silently, unmoving, while his eyes roll around madly.)
Dad: Hey, what are you doing?
(His eyes dart left, then right, then left again.)
Dad: RJ? Are you okay?
(His eyes continue to crazily flick around the room, glancing up, down, and doing loops. He is otherwise motionless.)
Dad: RJ! What is going on?!!!
RJ: It’s the music. My eyeballs love this music! They’re dancing!
(during a family lunch with everyone sitting at the dinner table)
Poppa: So does anyone want to get up and fetch me a glass of water?
(no volunteers)
Poppa: (gets up and walks into the kitchen) I guess I’ll get it myself.
LR: (with mock dismay) How come Poppa has to do all of the work around here?
(Over the weekend, I introduced the kids to some Monty Python sketches, which RJ really seemed to enjoy. This may not have been a good idea…)
Dad: What do you want in your sandwiches, guys?
RJ: Toasty cheese!
LR: Ham, Cheese and tomato, please!
Dad: Okay. Toasty cheese for RJ. And for LR, ham, cheese, tomato and spam… without the spam in it.
LR: No spam! Stop talking about spam!
RJ: Spam! I love spam! I’m having spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, spam…
LR: (yelling, upset) BUT I DON’T LIKE SPAM!
RJ: (yelling, ecstatic)… spam, spam, spam, spam. Spammity spam! Wonderful Spam!
Dad & RJ: (yelling together) SHUT UP YOU VIKINGS!
LR & Mum: Please stop now? Please?
(RJ walks in with a mesh bag over his head)
RJ: I’m a helping robot. I do everything you say!
Dad: I LOVE THIS ROBOT!!!
… (later)
Dad: So, Robot, what do you do for fun?
RJ: We play robot games. Robot hide and seek. Robot chasing. Switch on switch off.
Dad: And do you have to eat food?
RJ: Yes. I am hungry.
Dad: What do you eat?
RJ: (deviously) Only robot lollypops and robot chocolate.
Dad: Bad news, Robot. We don’t have those, anything else?
RJ: (sighing) Sometimes we can eat robot peanut butter sandwiches.
RJ: I’m eating bot fly larva,mum.
Mum: Mmmhmm. That’s nice.
RJ: Now I’m eating tape worms.
Mum: Uh huh.…
RJ: I can feel the eggs hatching.
Mum: Pass the fruit.
RJ: I need more food. They’re taking all my nutrients.
LR: THAT’S IT! HE’S GROSS! I’m done with lunch. (stomps off)
RJ: Well, that was easy. How was your day, mum?
