The PTO (it’s an organization, not an association) went all out on the Halloween decorations at the annual Carnaval des Citrouilles.

We had a minor crisis when Andy did not win a cake in the musical-chairs-style cakewalk. He got over it, though.

And here he is with the intern for his classroom, who he likes very, very much.

Andy: Can I have a chocolate syrup and strawberry syrup sandwich?

Me: No.

Andy: But it won’t make me hyper, I swear. It will make me pathetic.

[I attempt to explain what "pathetic" means.]

Andy: Yeah, chocolate syrup will make me not very smart. But chocolate syrup and strawberry syrup makes me super smart. They make me so smart that I’ll know every single thing in the universe. Like…whether aliens exist.

Me: Wow, I sure think it would be cool if you were that smart. But I think I can live without you knowing whether aliens exist.

Andy: Don’t you want me to be educationaled?

Andy has a new friend in the neighborhood, Dominic. Dominic is a little older–and bigger–and his mom gave Andy some of his outgrown costumes.

Andy was mad at me; I’ve already forgotten why.

Andy: You nincompoop.

Me: [Gives him a look.]

Andy: I did not just call you a nincompoop.

Me [still giving the look]: Yes, you did.

Andy: Rats! You heard me.

Me: [Continues giving the look.]

Andy: Well, I meant it sarcastically.

This is actually an improvement, on the plausibility scale, over his usual excuse: “I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to my brain.”

I made egg salad for dinner tonight, but Andy considered that a mere suggestion for a make-your-own-sandwich night. What kind of sandwich did he make for himself? Ketchup, pickles…and grapes.

Andy: Hello! This is Superman, aka Andy!

Grandma: [?]

Andy: Did you make the comment on my blog?

Grandma: [?]

Andy: It was this morning. Was the comment from you?

Grandma: [?]

Andy: Okay. That’s the only reason I called. Can I hang up now?

Jay and Andy have the day off today. I do not.

Andy: Can’t you stay home with us?

Me: No, I have to work.

Andy: I know! We’ll make a dummy of you.

Me: Mmm…I think someone would notice it wasn’t really me.

Andy: We’ll put a microphone in it. So when your boss says, “Hi Sarah,” the dummy can say, “Hi there.”

Me: Can you make the dummy so it actually does my work too?

Andy: Sure! I’ll just cut out the half of your brain that knows how to do your job.

Me:…

Andy: Or we could make a copy of your brain.

Me: I think I like the idea of making a copy of my brain more than the idea of cutting my brain in half.

Andy: But don’t worry. Even if we cut your brain in half, we could superglue it back together after work.

“Boy, I sure am a messy scientist!”

Followed up by: “Can I have the big roll of paper towels?”

There’s a gas station on the way to Andy’s school that has the cheapest gas I’ve seen in the Twin Cities lately. Unfortunately, I have no idea how to get from the freeway to this gas station. I was explaining to Andy that I can see the gas station but can’t tell what street to take to get there, and he had this ingenious solution:

Andy: Why don’t you just turn your car into a Batmobile and fly there?

“Oh, man is that good!”–Andy’s review of his latest culinary creation: apple slices dipped in ketchup, then dipped in parmesan cheese.