The scene: David is taking his evening shower. He calls out for me, and I open the sliding door to find him - staring straight down.
Me: What do you need, sweetie?
David: Mom, I don't want to be tiny down there.
(I am completely taken aback. What. The. Heck.)
Me: Uh, what did you say?
David: I don't want to be tiny down there. Don't make me be tiny!
(I somehow resist the urge to make a snarky remark about genetics and my ex-husband, and instead opt for the best way to get to the source of this.)
Me: Why are you saying that, sweetie?
David: Because you might shoot me with the shrink-ray and make me tiny and I will go down the drain. Like in that movie.
As usual, I got tossed from the raft into the rapids of David's stream-of-consciousness!
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