Brandonisms

For your enjoyment, a few random stories about the greatest eight-year-old in the world:  


“What did you do today?” Amanda asked over the phone.  “Nothing,” Brandon responded, with typical eight-year-old apathy.  “Nothing?  Well what was your favorite class?” she prodded.  “Recess class,” was the smart aleck reply, matching the disinterested tone used previously.  “What did you do at recess?” my sister asked, determined to get the kid to talk.  “I made 5 baskets,” he replied, then a pause before he added, “I mean, not like, basket weaving, but basketball baskets."  My mother could be heard in the background laughing hysterically.  I would like to know how this kid found out basket weaving is even a thing.

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“Katniss scratched me today!” Brandon said with surprise in his voice.  “Why?”  I asked, not overly concerned, assuming he deserved it.  “I don’t know, we were just playing catch!” was his excuse.  “You were playing catch with the cat?” I asked skeptically.  “Actually, we were playing dodgeball.”  Well that explains a lot.

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"Amanda, I'm so good at staring contests," Brandon bragged; "have a staring contest with me, I dare you."  "Okay," Amanda agreed, "but I'm gonna win!"  They began to prep themselves for the match.  "Okay," Brandon started to explain, "but there's only one rule: no cheating.  RULE NUMBER 2 - ya can't back down like a chicken."

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After hurting his leg, Brandon dramatically began limping around the house, whining as if he had been shot.  When that didn't garner him enough attention, he declared, "This is worse than being gobbled up by a man-child!"

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“Brandon, go tell Makenna she has halitosis,” I encouraged.  “What’s halitosis?” my little brother asked.  “It means ‘bad breath,’” I informed him.  I followed behind as he ran into the other room where my sister was sitting.  “Makenna, Makenna, guess what?” he yelled.  “What?” she asked casually.  “You have halitosis!” he exclaimed, then started laughing at his cleverness.  Standing in the doorway, I didn’t try to hide my laughter.  “What is halitosis?” Makenna asked us both, entirely confused at what was going on.  I looked to Brandon to answer.  “It’s a disease,” he responded, “it’s called diabetes… that’s how you say it in Spanish.”

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So for a while we had Brandon convinced that "guacamole" got its green color from broccoli, and therefore was actually "broccamole."  One day, Amanda was feeling a hankering for some green tortilla-chip dip so she asked Brandon, "Hey, will you make me some broccamole?" to which he replied, "Dude.  I don't even know how to make a Toaster Strudel." 

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Brandon really has a hard time with bedtimes.  He despises them, and is pretty good at stalling.  One evening, my mom jokingly told him that if he didn't go to bed, she was going to beat him up.  He responded by saying he wanted her to beat him up.  My mother lightly punched his arm.  "WHOA," he said, stunned, "You are OFF the wall.  You said you were gonna beat me up, not jack my arm!"

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"Brandon, how much ketchup do you need?"  "Tons. TONS, woman."

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Amanda knocked on our neighbor's door to pick Brandon up from a sleepover.  "Brandon, you're still in your pajamas?  It's six o'clock!  Did you just play video games all day?" Brandon's intellectual response was, "Nah, I ate, I slept, I kicked a bag once."