I watched my eight-year-old son sitting at the kitchen table. He had a flashlight, and was taking it apart. After he had dismembered it, he turned it on and shined it into his eyes. (He did have a part in front, partially blocking the stream of light.)
"Bubba, what are you doing?" I asked.
"Lightening my eyeballs."
"Excuse me?" I said.
"I want to see what I look like with lighter eyeballs."
All I could do was shake my head.
Meanwhile, my daughter who was sitting on the barstool sipping Sprite, thought that was the most hilarious thing she'd ever heard. She promptly spit out her Sprite - all over my manuscripts which were to be mailed to agents.
"What the heck?" I bellowed.
My daughter could not stop laughing. Sprite came out her nose and dripped onto my manuscripts.
"This cannot be for real," I said.
"Don't worry Mom," my daughter said. "The agents will still take them. They're children's books. A little sticky Sprite is to be expected!"