the drunken cyclist

Sebastian is my twelve-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.  Sebastian had an assignment for school for which he had to ask his parents their blood types. Me: “AB+” His mother: “B+” Nathan (who had overheard the conversation): “What am I?” Sebastian (without missing a beat): “A loser.”