Son: Mommy, I just hafta keep on talking. You know, talking. Blah de blah and stuff.
Me: Honey, I've just barely opened my eyes. You can talk, but I'm not going to answer.
Son: Mommy, why did the dog talk to the Ram?
Son: Okay, you don't know. It's a joke. Say WHY MOMMY?
Me: Why mommy.
Son: Hee! Because! Hee hee hee! Because!
Son: Because he's always butting in. Get it? Butt? Hee! Buuuuuutt.
Me: That's what they call it when a ram uses his horns to bang into something.
Son: I know, but it's funnier my way. Butt. Butt. Butt. Butt.
Me: Okay, enough.
Son: (in mocking sing-song) Mommy needs some quoa-fee cause she can't take a joke.
5 year old: Did someone just say butt?
Son: Pain in the butt! Pain in the butt!
Me: Really, enough now.
Son and 5 year old: Pain. In. The. Buuuuuuuutttttt!
Me: (over my shoulder as I head for coffee) No more Butt!
5 year old: I guess we'll have to sit on our elbows. Great.