Context: The kids were supposed to be in their own rooms undressing, putting on pajamas, and THEN placing their clothes in the hallway hamper. Instead, they were standing one centimeter inside the thresholds of their bedrooms, as close as possible to each other while still technically being inside their rooms, taking off one article of clothing at a time, and reaching into the hallway to deposit each into the hamper before removing the next item.
Summerly: “I heard a good joke! What’s the safest room in a house during a zombie invasion?”
Summerly: “The living room!”
(a few minutes later) Arlo: “Oh, I have one! What’s the most dangerous room in a house during a zombie invasion?”
Arlo: “The dining room!”
Context: Rachel Platten’s “Fight Song” came on the radio in the car, and I was explaining that a “fight song” is really an anthem intended to express endurance, perseverance, unflagging efforts in the face of adversity. I said, “It’s not about starting a fight, exactly; it’s about fighting through challenges without giving up or giving in when things are hard or people say or do things to suggest that what you’re trying to accomplish is hopeless or impossible. It’s about having determination, believing in yourself, and pursuing your goals no matter what obstacles stand in your way. It’s about upholding your beliefs and taking action when you encounter wrongdoing or injustice. The song is to help promote those ideas, remind you of your resolve and give you energy to keep going, especially during the hardest times.”
Arlo: “Oh! So, like, if a zombie comes, you’d fight it so it doesn’t eat your brains! Right?”
Context: Brian was helping the kids suit up in their snow gear, and they were at the stage that causes all parents’ blood pressure to reach unprecedented levels: putting on gloves, or, more specifically, fitting the correct fingers into their corresponding finger-shaped apertures.
Brian: “Ok, put your hand in. Now spread your fingers and reach for my brains.”
(FYI, I highly recommend this snow-day strategem, as the results were far more successful than my attempts heretofore, which admittedly included the harebrained and probably too stridently-delivered directive of “Oh, come on! JUST THREAD THE NEEDLE!”)
Arlo: “But you don’t have any brains!”
Context: I was reading to the kids and came to this sentence: “In the middle of the afternoon, the sky suddenly turned dark and ominous.”
Alison: “Do you guys know what ‘ominous’ means?”
Liam: “Like, scary?”
Alison: “Well, sort of! More like ‘threatening’ or ‘making you think or feel that something bad or unwelcome is going to happen’. What do you think is going to happen, in this case?”
Arlo: (animatedly) “Maybe zombies are going to fall out of the sky!”
Alison: “Yes, except instead of zombies, it’s rain that’s going to fall out of the sky.”
Arlo: “Yeah! Rain that eats your brains!”
I suppose it makes sense that the third child should always want to have the last word, especially when zombies are concerned.