Me: That you won't stop talking about it?
Hubs: Besides that.
Our preschooler EB is standing in Hubs's lap eating a Rice Krispies treat.
EB: Snap, crackle, pop!
Hubs [grimacing]: I think she's talking about my nuts.
We're leaving dinner.
Hubs: Do you want to stop for anything on the way home? Drink? Snack?
Me: No, I'm full. But pleasantly full.
Hubs: That's my porn name. Pleasantly Full.
The baby has just broken the preschooler's princess headband and we're trying to keep her from freaking out.
Hubs: Anything your sister breaks, we can either fix or replace, sweetheart. [He pauses and sighs.] Unless it's Optimus Prime.
Me: What?
Hubs: My parents bought him before Transformers got popular and they stashed him away. By Christmas you couldn't find them anywhere so when I opened him up on Christmas morning I was SO EXCITED. Then an hour later I jumped off the couch and landed on him and broke his leg off. I cried and cried.
Me: Aww. How old were you?
Hubs: I don't know. Like fourteen?