I walked into my son's room and sniffed. It didn't smell good. "Bubba," I said. "What is that putrid odor?"
He inhaled deeply. "Oh. It's a rotting coconut."
I looked at that kid. "A rotting coconut?"
"Yeah." He walked over to his book shelf and pointed to a half shell of coconut, which was indeed decomposing and emmitting some awful fumes.
"Bubba," I said. "Why is there a rotting coconut on your shelf?"
"Because I wanted to make a cup, but I never got around to it."
I shook my head. "Okay, Bubba. You can toss that thing in the garbage right now."
"But Mama, I might have time to make it later!"