Don’t You Hate It When He’s Right?

When my son was three, I made him really angry by making him put away his toys and get ready for bed. He WANTED to cuss at me, but he lacked the vocabulary, so he dug down deep into his p*ssed off wee soul, looked me dead in the eye, and came out with:

Son: “Mommy, you not nice! You a triangle!“

Confused, I look over to my husband.

Husband: “He stepped on one of his triangle toy pieces yesterday, and it hurt. I guess he’s associating you with something unpleasant and painful.”

Me: “Thanks for the explanation; I was being obtuse.”

Husband: “You have to admit, it’s acute!”

Me: *Silent*

Husband: “You’re trying to think of a pun involving isosceles triangles, aren’t you?”