WHEN, IN THE COURSE OF HUMAN EVENTS, YOUR CHILD FORSAKES YOU FOR AN ALTERNATE HISTORY OF HIS OWN CREATION

Setting: At the grocery store, with the four year old in the cart (also one of the more bizarre answers you can get at the game of Clue).

Kid: I'm a new boy.

Me: Do you want olives, new boy?

Kid: Yes.

Me: So what makes you new?

Kid: I've never been to Earth before. This is my first time.

Me: Do you want regular Goldfish or parmesan Goldfish, tiny Oshkosh-clad extraterrestrial?

Kid: Regular. I'm from Saturn. I'm here for work. I'm going home in three days.

Me: What's your home like?

Kid: It's painted green, and there are no baby things in my room, and my parents are like you. They have the same hair as you.

Me: How do you get back and forth?

Kid: I fly through space. In a giant bar of soap.

Me: 'Cause it's biodegradable?

Kid: Yes. Can I get a new one here?

Me: A new soap rocket? Maybe in sporting goods.

Kid: I like it here. I like meeting people. And eating olives. But I can't wait to go back to my home country.

Me: Planet. Saturn's a planet.

Then we go to check out, where a woman who had been trailing us down the aisle congratulated him - a foreigner - on having such a good English accent. She was, unfortunately, serious.