Just now, the mites were talking about what they wanted to be when they grow up. This is how it went:
Oldest: I’m Bruce Lee.
Youngest: I’m hit-oh-pus!
Oldest: What?
Youngest: Pardon! You can’t say “What?”! It’s rude!
Oldest: (impatiently) Pardon?
Youngest: HITOHPUS!
Oldest: (confused) What do you do?
Youngest: Drink all day!
Oldest: …
Youngest: Huge! We saw it yesterday!
Oldest: Oh. Hippopotamus. Hip-po-pot-ah-mus.
Youngest: Hip-po-pot-ah-mus?
Oldest: Yeah.
Youngest: Hip-po-pot-ah-mus… Hip-po-pot-ah-mus, hippopotahmus, hippopotahmus!
Oldest: But you can’t be one.
Youngest: (shocked) Why?
Oldest: Hippopotamus is stupid, and you’re not stupid. You should be like… (pause) a lion. More cool.
Youngest: No! Claws.
Oldest: Monkey, then. You can be a monkey. You act like one.
Youngest: Me?
Oldest: Yeah.
Youngest: Monkey is cool?
Oldest: Yeah. You’re a monkey.
Youngest: I’m a monkey! I’m a monkey! Monkey! Monkey! Monkey!
Oldest: I be Bruce Lee and you be a monkey, okay?
Youngest: Yeah!
Oldest: Good. (punches Youngest’s arm hard)
Youngest: (shocked) Why?
Oldest: I’m Bruce Lee, and you’re just a monkey.
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