He wanted watermelon, so we all have some and he, being of noble blood, of course, doesn’t eat the seeds. Which then results in one of his sisters not eating the seeds too. Essentially because she is the drama queen and has to make a spectacle of any/all things as how they relate to her.
So a conversation follows about watermelon seeds and how most people eat them, parrots eat them, and they are generally thought to be just fine. At any rate the conversation moves on and the little Viking is just quietly plucking each seed out and eating his watermelon chunks.
A few minutes later, with the natural innocence of children, he points at the seeds in his plate and says:
“Daddy, we could plant these seeds and grow our own watermelons.”
Pleased with his thought process and farming instincts, I reply:
“That’s right son, we could. That’s good thinking.”
He instantly replies:
“So stop eating the seeds!”
And I see in his eyes… the completely intentional set-up.
After the laughter died down, he added, this time with a professorial half-eyes closed and supercilious serious look on his face, instead of the intense gotcha-face he had on the previous sentence:
“Besides, if we grow our own watermelons, we don’t have to buy them anymore.”
His sense of humour is certainly more along the intellectual side than that of his sisters.
