My little brother, who I have fondly nicknamed Calvin due to his insatiable appetite for the Calvin and Hobbes comic strips (although now he also claims he loves Garfield as well), was not raised in the church. You'll find that this is in direct conflict with my upbringing (see previous post about my thoughts on marriage). My parents also apparently decided they were tired when they brought him into this world, and decided to not beat his ass anytime he acted up. And since he was raised around a household of adults/young adults, his vocabulary is heads and shoulders above other kids of his age. Oh yeah, and he also likes to do different impressions of movie characters (including, but not limited to the three little Bavarian pigs from Shrek).
What does this add up to? A kid who is entirely too smart for his own good, and who should probably get spanked more often than he does. And pretty funny on top of it all.
One such conversation which proves how succinct (and unintentionally endearing) he can be:
Me: How do you get to heaven?
Calvin: You die.
Me: Close enough.
I'm looking into vacation bible schools in the area. Especially since he's also taken up imitating a demon voice while saying "Praise me." (He got it from some weird TMZ prank in which a woman was punked in an operating room by the emergence of a demon-like midget with horns and a tail.)
Yep. Have I ever mentioned we aren't
heatherns heathens?
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