Category: Booski

Booski: “Mom, when do you think you’ll get bigger so you’ve can go to college? You’re not even getting any bigger.”

The only way my son will practice his writing is if we’re writing potty words. So far, he’s mastered poop, pee and toots.

Do cement trucks dump dirt?

What do pigs eat?

Why are adults bigger than kids?

How come you’re not very big?

Did Jesus ever meet a big dragon?

Are dinosaurs just sorta big or super big?

Why is it harder to go on one ski than two skis?

How come my favorite color is red and your favorite color is blue?

Why is it called corn on the cob and not cob on the corn?

Booski: “Dizzle, you can have my Detroit Tigers flip flops, but I get ’em back when you die.”

True love is yelling “smash it!” to your sister when she’s up to bat, even though you’re playing shortstop on the opposing team.

Dizzle: I can’t believe you picked that gum off the ground and put it in your mouth. That’s disgusting!

Booski: Well, I wiped the ants off it first.

Shoutout to all the guests at Two Tonys, who acted completely unfazed when my son dropped his pants and whipped his business out right in the middle of dinner.

My son has worn the same outfit for a solid nine days. Consistency is key. Just ask the smelly kid.