Boone:
AAAAAAAA!

Wyatt:
AAAAAARRGH!

Me:
What? What is it?

Wyatt:
I’m uncomfortable.

Boone:
Yeah. Me, too. But it’s more than that.

Wyatt:
Right. It’s like...

Me:
Pain?

Boone:
Is that what it’s called? Sounds about right. AAAAAAAAYYY!

Wyatt:
AAAAAAGH!

Me:
It must be your teeth coming in.

Wyatt:
I thought they already did.

Me:
No, those were just your first teeth. More are coming.

Boone:
How many?

Me:
A whole mouthful.

Wyatt:
Each of us?

Me:
Yes.

Wyatt:
Damn it.

Boone:
Boy, we really got the crap end of that stick.

Me:
Well, everyone goes through it.

Wyatt:
Can I just stop the process? I was thinking about getting a gold grill like Flavor Flav anyway.

Me:
Sorry.

Boone:
So, we have no say in this at all. That sucks. OW! AAAAAAARGH!

Wyatt:
AAAAAAEEEEEE! OW! OW! OW!

Me:
Hey, this is no picnic for me either. It’s like living with two car alarms.

Boone:
What’s a car alarm?

Wyatt:
Wait. What’s a car?

Me:
Never mind.

Wyatt:
This is your fault, old man.

Boone:
Consider this chapter one in my tell-all memoir about what a terrible father you are. OH, OW! OW!

Wyatt:
AAAAAAAAAA!