Chewey: “I want to be an astronaut when I grow up.”
Me: “Astronauts don’t pinch their friends. So you’ll need to stop that.”
Chewey: “Why can’t I pinch?”
Me: “Because NASA won’t send an astronaut up to meet the aliens if he’s going to pinch them. If you pinch a martian, you’ll start a war.” (I know)
Chewey: “But I want to start a war. Then I can shoot them.”
Hard to argue with that logic.
Me: “Uh, we don’t want to start a war with the Martians. NASA–the boss of all the astronauts–wouldn’t like that. The Martians, uh, have cool toys.”
Chewey: “What kind of toys?”
Because it all leads back to robots. That’s why we have robot insurance, right?
Chewey: “Can I go outside and lick snow?”
Me: “Sure, buddy.”
And seriously, that’s exactly what he did. He knows his colors in four different languages at not even four, but his big entertainment? Licking snow.
I may be in trouble.