Yesterday, I took my nine-year-old son to the music hall to hear an orchestra concert. I made him wear a suit and tie. He cleaned up pretty good and was looking rather handsome.
At intermission, he decided he needed a snack. He was hungry. I took him down to the snack kiosk, where he spied a large, frosted brownie.
"Dude, that's going to be messy!" I said.
"I have napkins," he replied. "I'll be fine."
I must've been slightly out of my mind to agree to this, but since he sat through a rather long first half, I decided to go ahead and get it for him.
Sure enough, crumbs landed on his suit. I picked them off. Frosting landed around his mouth. When he grinned, frosting covered his teeth.
"Dude, you're a mess!"
He poked me with a chocolaty finger. "I'm a kid, Mama. Making messes is what I do!"
(We spent the rest of intermission cleaning him up so he at least looked presentable for the rest of the concert. Somehow we got him fixed, but there will be no more chocolate brownies at intermission!)