Sebastian is our seventeen-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.

For years, I have been trying to get my sons to learn how to cook. Nathan, who is away at grad school in Ohio, laments now that he never took me up on the offer. Sebastian, on the other hand, does not think he needs any such assistance.

Me: “What do you want for dinner tomorrow?”

Sebastian: “I thought I was cooking?!”

Me: “Ok. What do you want to make?”

Seba: “Anything you want. Name it.” 

Me: “Ok. Chateaubriand.”

Seba: “Yeah. Not something stupid.”