Me, every morning leading up to the day: “Remember, dad, you said we’re going to Fuddruckers on Sunday.”

Same people who bring kids to see Randy Feltface and are offended when he starts cursing like a sailor.

That’s actually legitimately scary.

As a child, I was suspicious of the Swanson Ice Cream trucks that randomly appeared in my neighborhood.

That’s actually really cute.

“Move this couch, please.” “Sure thing, mom.”

“Open these olives, please.” “Of course, sweety.”

I just know I’m going to be minding my own business and my to-be teenaged son will suddenly ask me what a VCR is.

POV: You’re Homer Simpson.

I used to work retail with someone who would regularly help parents that brought their baby into the store. Every time the baby would shout gibberish while he was having a conversation with the parents, he would immediately stop what he was doing, look right at the baby, and say matter-of-factually, “I completely agree.”

Anything that makes a baby’s brain go “wait, what is happening?” Will make them (momentarily) stop crying.

My son makes eye contact with me, smiles, touches his diaper, and says “Ota!” (His word for ‘Uh oh!’)