My ten-year-old yelling at me from the kitchen:
Hailey: HEY MOM? I BROKE A BANANA.
me: Wha...how can you break a banana?
Hailey: Um. I NEED A SHARPIE.
me: WHY?
Hailey: NEVER MIND. I FIXED IT.
me: WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN THERE?
Hailey: This.
Hailey (in a deep voice): “HEY GUUURL! I’M MISTER BANANA. YOU CAN’T EAT ME BECAUSE NOW I HAVE EYES. I SEE YOU.”
me: Wow.
Hailey: I’m still gonna eat you, Mister BananaMan. You’ll go bad if I don’t eat you. You’ll be a badnana.
Hailey: “YOU WOULDN’T EAT ME, HAILEY. I’M YOUR FRIEND. FEED ME M&M’S.”
me: You can’t have any M&M’s.
Hailey: It’s not for me, mom. It’s Mister Banana. He’s so demanding.
Hailey: “YUM YUM YUM! M&M’S! PUT THEM IN MY MOUTH HOLE.”
Hailey: Okay Mister Banana. Calm down already. I’ll get the M&M’s.
me: Was this all just an elaborate ruse to get M&M’s?
Hailey: “I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT, HAILEY’S MOM. THESE M&M’S ARE DELICIOUS.”
me: You’re a weird kid, Hailey. But in the best way.
Hailey: “WE LOVE YOU TOO, MRS. HAILEY’S MOM.”
Updated: The kitchen counter, 10 minutes later.
Oh, sweet baby Jesus. Call homicide. BANANA DOWN.