Sebastian is my eleven-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.
Last summer, we visited Rome as a family. As soon as we landed, Sebastian started clamoring for pizza, easily his favorite food. He was not happy to have to wait for a few hours–we landed at around nine in the morning and no pizza serving restaurant would be open until noon.
When lunchtime finally arrived, we found what seemed to be a suitable restaurant and after it took some time for him to understand the concept that he needed to order his own pie, he waited quite impatiently for it to arrive.
Once it came, Sebastian looked at his pizza a bit overwhelmed since it was not cut. The waiter, sensing his bewilderment, offered to cut it for him. He whisked the pizza away and returned within a minute with it freshly cut.
Nathan had ordered spaghetti carbonara (easily his favorite dish), but also helped Sebastian with his enormous pizza.
Once all the food had been devoured…
Sebastian: “Guess how many pieces of pizza I had?”
Sebastian: “Nope. Six!”
Me: “That’s not possible. You gave Nathan three.”
Sebastian: “I know. I started with nine.”