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Philip: Wow, chocolate chip cookie batter! I love it before it's cooked! Can I have some? Please, please?
Philip's mother: No, it's got raw eggs in it and you could get salmonella poisoning.
Philip: (disappointed) One more nostalgic part of childhood goes THBPPTH.
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Philip: What does this word mean? Philip's mother: Which one? Philip: That long one. (When Philip's mother sees the word, her eyes bug out in shock.) Philip's mother: I don’t know. Philip: YOU DO TOO!!! All right! Where’s a dictionary!?
Philip: Bad news on your campaign to stay dad, Dad. Philip's father: Oh? Philip: Yep. The latest poll of eight-year-olds in this household shows that they don't care about issues this year. It's character that counts. Philip's father: So why the bad news? Philip: Who's the bimbo with you in this old prom picture? Philip's father: That "bimbo" is your MOTHER! Philip's mother: Who's a bimbo?! Philip: Pretty funky hairdo, Mom!
Philip's mother: I'm so angry they opened that Coffeebucks smack in the middle of the old town square. Philip's father: Why? Because it's so corporate? Philip's mother: No… Philip's father: Because of the parking crunch? Philip's mother: No… Philip's father: Because it'll hurt all the mom and pop coffee shops? Philip's mother: Because it's right on the route Philip takes home from school. Philip's father: I wondered why his teeth were chattering all through dinner.
Philip: (getting dressed in a suit and tie) Why do I have to wear these dorky clothes and get my hair combed?!
Philip's mother: Your Dad's going to take your picture. Hold still. (begins to comb Philip's hair)
Philip: I don't WANT to get my picture taken!
Philip's mother: It will just take a few minutes. We're going to put the picture of you in our Christmas cards so everyone can see what you look like now.
Philip: What a dumb idea. Why are we doing that?
Philip's father: So we won't have relatives dropping by to visit.
Philip's mother: DEAR...
...
(Philip is sitting on a stool. Philip's father aims the camera.)
Philip's father: Ready? OK, give me a nice smile.
(Philip is sitting nicely with a pleasant smile on his face.)
Philip's father: That's good. One... two... three!
(When the count reaches three, Philip makes a weird face. *CLICK!*)
(Philip's father chases his son.)
Philip: My hair's getting messed up, Dad!
...
(Philip is sitting on the stool again.)
Philip's father: There's not much space left on the memory card, so stop making faces when I take the picture, or your name's mud. You could've been done 20 minutes ago if you'd just cooperated. Now give me a smile and hold it for two seconds.
(Philip partly closes his eyes and opens his mouth strangely. *CLICK!*)
Philip's father: PHILIP!
Philip: THAT WAS A SMILE! I SMILED!
...
(Philip's parents are looking at photos. One looks like Philip had sucked a lemon, one has him shaking his face back and forth, one has him leaned back so you see up his nose, one has him looking backward.)
Philip's father: We can't send these in our Christmas cards. People will think it's sacrilegious.
Philip's mother: Well, these DO look like Philip... except for the combed hair.
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Philip's mother: So your teacher didn't know you ripped your pants, and he made you do a problem at the chalkboard?
Philip: That sums it up.
Philip's mother: How awful! What did you do??
Philip: I didn't have a choice. I mooned the whole class.
Philip's mother: That's why you're home early?
Philip: Three teachers and the principal couldn't restore order.
Philip's mother: (Angrily presses buttons on a computer keyboard) Argh!
Philip's father: What's the matter with you?
Philip's mother: Argh! Computer problems. I'm ticked because I haven't been able to post on my blog today.
Philip's father: (Eyes wide, runs to the window. He looks out the window. It's a perfectly normal day outside.)
Philip's father: And yet somehow, the world goes on.
Philip's mother: (Droops her head) Leave.
Philip's father: Chess?
Philip's mother: No thanks.
Philip's father: Aw, c'mon...
Philip's mother: Sorry. I've had a long day.
Philip's father: I'll let you go first...
Philip's mother: I said no!
Philip's father: Pleeeeeeease?
Philip's mother: Franz, how can I make this any more clear? I DON'T WANT TO PLAY CHESS!
Philip's father: Fine. (Leaves, then returns with another game) Backgammon?
Philip's mother: Philip, do me a favor and cover your ears...
