Sebastian is my nine-year-old and he says some of the funniest things–we have no idea where he gets his material since his mother and I are rather boring, serious people.
We were in the car, playing the game we frequently play: name the artist.
Sebastian: “Michael Jackson!”
Me: “Nope. It’s George Michael.”
Seba: “Yes!”
Nathan: “Dude, what are you talking about? You got it wrong—it wasn’t Michael Jackson, it was George Michael.”
Seba: “I know! That means I was half right! George Michael, Michael Jackson. I get half a point.”
the drunken cyclist 