We're in the kitchen and Jake's complaining about one of his teachers, who is apparently tone-sensitive ("she's always telling us to stop yelling, but we're not yelling"), cranky and 100 years old. "She's like....50, mom!" (Fifty is like....12 years away for me, dude.) He proceeds to explain how she has these wicked big arms that flap when she waves her arms, while yelling at kids to stop yelling. I flippantly say "Yea, big like mine," and proceed to jiggle my own arm fat. He says "No, her arm fat is WAY bigger than your arm...." He stops, mid-sentence. "You have no arm fat mom. None." Pause. ................ "Nice save, huh mom?"
"Toootally," I say.
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