Deny, Deny, Deny!

So I walk into the kitchen and cornstarch slurry is drizzled all over. All over the wood floor, the counters, down the front of the stove and dried drips all over our dark wood cabinets.

DECLAN!! 

He reports to the kitchen with a thin layer of cornstarch on his clothes.  Front and back.  Despite this, the most damning of circumstantial evidence, he threw his hands up and absolutely insisted he had no knowledge of the cause of the mess. Curiously though, he did immediately offer to clean it up.

When I am in the looney bin blathering about non-Newtonian liquid, I am relying on you, my friends, to smuggle me liquor...

What You Can Learn from a Crazy Person with a Gun

The Husband was reading to Dec and I from the internet.  Apparently, some young man in Canada had snapped and gone full-on Rambo.  He put on camos, put a black headband around his forehead, armed himself to the teeth and took to the forest.  He killed three mounties before they caught him in someone's backyard.

Dec pondered all of it for a little bit.

"You know, I bet you could really learn a lot of survival skills from that guy.  Not people skills, obviously."

Obviously.

On Girls and Hair

Declan informed me that in middle school, as opposed to elementary school, most of his classmates who disliked him were girls.  "But, they're just jealous because I have better hair than them."