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?
