Coffee Talk with Grant

Our kitchen.
I'm fixing Grant his breakfast.
He's drumming his fingers on the table, waiting patiently.
He attempts to make small talk while waiting for his toast:

"So, Mom... remember Fat Bastard?"

Someone is so in trouble for letting a 4 year old watch "The Spy Who Shagged Me"

Pride goes before a fall.

Grant has been working on his letters. Refrigerator magnets galore and lots of practice with crayons and printer paper...

Mom, I need a napkin.
OK, but why?
There's something on the wall...
What's on the wall?
Nuffin'....

I hand him the napkin and wait a moment or two. Scrubbing, rubbing sounds are heard from the hallway. I discover Grant scrubbing away at a large pencil mark.

What are you doing?
Nuffin'
Did you write on the wall!?
No!
Is that pencil on my wall!?
No!
What is that then!?
It's the letter A (duh is implicit in his tone)

Is it really this easy to read me?

I just looked out the kitchen window to discover Grant in the backyard, peeing on the lawn. eeeewwwww! In a split second, several things flash through my mind:

• Lately he's been pretending that he's Corsa (the dog), and he's just getting into character.
• One of his big brothers is going to be in big touble!
• His dad is going to be in big trouble.
• He's trying to hit a bug with the stream.
• He marked on something he shouldn't have with sidewalk chalk and he's trying to wash away the evidence...

I waited a moment and went outside. I didn't yell or raise a ruckus, or even say anything at all. I just waited. He finished buttoning up his shorts, looked at me, shrugged his shoulders and sighed, "Well don't watch me then!"