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.
Every Friday, I take the boys out for “Kolache Friday.” For those of you not from Houston, a kolache is of Czech origin and simply put, it is a doughy ball, stuffed with variations of breakfast food goodness: egg, cheese, bacon, sausage, etc. We purchase said kolaches at our local donut shop, Summit Donuts, which also might have the best donuts in the city. I allow the boys to have a small kolache and a donut (I am a bit of a pushover when it comes to breakfast foods), and they do not hesitate to indulge.
On one such Friday, Sebastian had finished his kolache and was tearing into his frosted (and sprinkled, naturally) donut when I handed him a napkin, subtlety suggesting that he attend to the shrapnel that was accumulating around his mouth.
After wiping the area clean, he then elevated the thin white paper to first his left, then his right ear.
Once done, I looked at him puzzlingly, clearly, but silently inquiring about this new apparent approach to personal hygiene.
With the napkin in one hand, and the remaining morsel of donut in the other, he did not hesitate to voice: “Hey, it’s gotten up there before.”
the drunken cyclist 
Well at least he’s aware which is more than I can say for my 18 year-old son occasionally.
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