. . . which I trooped in 4242's clean gear.
Kid: "Is that a real gun? Does that gun really shoot? Can it? I bet you can't shoot it. You can't shoot that gun. Hey, you know what? My dad has a gun. My other dad, he has a BAZOOKA."
Me: "Oh, yeah? You know what my boss has? A Death Star."
Kid: "Oh. Right."
__________________________________________________________
Little girl, who'd just seen me tilt my helmet up to scratch my nose: "Somehow I knew you were too cool to be a boy."
__________________________________________________________
My Girl Scout Leader Buddy, who walked up with her family: "We saw you guys in the distance and I told the girls, 'There's Miss Jen!' We couldn't see your face, but we knew it had to be you."
__________________________________________________________
Police officer on a motorcycle, over his PA system, clearing the way for the 5K runners: "Uhh, Boba Fett, Stormtroopers . . . pull off to the right please. Troopers, to the right, please."
__________________________________________________________
Wee Man: "Dat Trooper my mommy. She's cool."
__________________________________________________________
Wee Man: "Me like Fett. Fett me friend. And Dent. And Bill. And Wance."
__________________________________________________________
Me, to Sewing Goddess, in a dust storm, pushing a two-seater stroller full of babies: "Not too many times when it's actually an advantage to be wearing one of these f'ing buckets."
SG: (wiping dust and the start of rain out of her eyes) "I guess."
{later, as I hear the rain start coming down on top of my helmet}
Me: "Raindrops are falling on my dome. That's it--we're going to Wal-Mart."
__________________________________________________________
Our friend Kim, witnessing the costuming phenomenon firsthand: "Wow, people must say all kinds of f'ed up stuff to you guys."
Me: "Heh. You have no idea."
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
Sometimes even the youngest ones get it. Hee hee.
Post a Comment