Neurons Firing

Just a typical afternoon in our casa.

Buster settled in by Buds.

Then this happened:

Buster sat up and said, “I can’t hear any neurons firing.”

He stood up, walked over to look at the clock on the stove and said to me, “Time of death 1:28 p.m.”

And then he and I dissolved into laughter while Buds looked up from his writing, confused.