A recent episode of Octonauts (that K watched about a dozen times) featured slime eels, which are exactly what they sound like. The lesson of that show is that most sea creatures are repulsive.
Today a misunderstanding about the word "eggs," sloppily written on our shopping list, led us to tell K that Daddy was going to Costco to buy eels. "Slime eels," I specified. "A big bucket full." JW added, "For your birthday, instead of your Pac-Man party, we're going to have a slime eel party." "We'll put the eels in the bathtub and everyone can swim in it," I said. "And for a party favor, each kid will get a bucket of slime," concluded JW.
We could have gone on a lot longer, except K was giving us the death stare. Then he walked out and slammed the door.
K normally tolerates, and participates in, our silliness. But he takes his gift-giving occasions very seriously.
The Christmas when he was three, K kept changing his mind about what he wanted from Santa. For weeks, he kept asking for a yellow bulldozer, so I got him that. A really nice one, too. And then in the weeks before Christmas, every day it was something different, and he never mentioned the bulldozer again. I told him Santa had already gotten his present. He asked what it was, and I told him it would be a surprise. He kept asking and I said maybe something yellow. Finally, when he continued to ask, I said Santa was going to give him a banana. After that, every time he mentioned he was going to ask Santa for something, I would tell him maybe next year, because I was pretty sure he was getting a banana. (He knew I was kidding. I wasn't just trying to torture him.)
Christmas morning, as a joke, I stuck a banana in his stocking. His stocking was full (of things other than bananas) and there were plenty of gifts under the tree, so I thought he'd think it was funny. He was furious. He yelled at me a little and then we got over it. I thought. But months in advance of this past Christmas, he warned me, "Don't give me a banana. I AM SERIOUS. NO BANANA."