Uncle Chicken

Preston:  Mom, is your hair short or long now?
Me:  I don't know. Medium length, I guess.
Preston:  Well, when are you going to grow it long again?  You know, so you can be a fashion star...
Me:  I'm not going to be one of those.
Preston:  Well, you could be a fashion star if you tried.

And to bring me down a notch...

Preston:  Look at this pretty picture I drew of you, Mom.  Oh wait, I forgot to draw the little dots on your face.

While watching Tangled, my nephew commented, "They should have made her have pierced ears."  "Oh, so you like girls with pierced ears?"  Said only the way a nine-year-old boy who is embarrassed can say it, he answered with a big "Hmmmph."

My niece was playing with a doll.  "Aunt Melissa, my baby can't say your name yet, so she's just going to call you Uncle Chicken."

Me:  My brother wants to know if we'll come visit him if they move to Germany.
Bill:  Why not?  Half our stuff has already spent three months there anyway! 

(When we moved from Colorado to New Mexico about eight years ago, our stuff took a little detour to Germany.)