"Hey, Mom, I would spike the eggnog for a dollar."
My son said this. And my eyebrows went up.
"I'm sorry?"
"If you paid me a dollar, I'd spike the eggnog."
Now, we do have a long family history of dollar bets. They are good and funny and always about making the memory and not about making the money. But still. He's ten. There is an age minimum.
"Do you know what it means to spike the eggnog?"
"Sure, you walk into the party, and you pick up the bowl of punch, and you slam it on the ground as hard as you can."
Right.
Like a volleyball.
I absolutely LOVE ten-year-olds. Have never had any of my own, but as a professional aunt and a sometime camp counselor, that's my favorite age group to hang out with. Old enough to explore really loony concepts with, young enough that wild hormones haven't taken over yet.