[Overheard in McDonald's this morning]
Two little boys, approximately 4 or 5 years old, spy each other in line. Their mothers are holding their respective hands, staring straight ahead at the menu board with that dispassionate glazed look -- like they're pumping gas, or waiting for a dog to do its business.
- Little boy #1: Hey! You get McDonald's for breakfast too!
Little boy #2: Yeah! I'm getting pancakes! I thought I was never going to get pancakes again.
Little boy #1: How come? Your mom doesn't make pancakes at home?
Little boy #2: No. I only get them here. And I didn't think I was ever going to taste them ever again.
Little boy #1: How come?
Little boy #2: Because after my little brother's birthday party, my Mom said she'd rather take it up the ass than eat here anymore.
I do believe that this little fellow* has officially topped my brother's "from the mouths of babes" gem -- wherein he once, as a wee 'un, approached an army officer at a party and asked if he could sleep with the man's daughters.
* Who, as he was being led back to a booth by his hysterically laughing mother, was fussing, "BUT I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS!"