Sebastian is our fourteen-year-old son 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. 

The other night we went out to dinner at a new restaurant and as I do in every such instance, I make sure that there is something on the menu for Sebastian to eat. That usually means either pizza or chicken fingers at this point. In this case, it was the former.

Once our meals arrived, it all looked quite good so I took a bite of Sebastian’s pizza.

Me: “Oh, that’s good! It tastes like there is some fennel.”

Sebastian: “You mean funnel cake?”