Son: Boys are gathering into our yard! Dad: ...How many boys Son: All of them... Dad: MY MILKSHAKES!
Because the refuse you to meet with stake holders. (why yes, I am a dad why do you ask)
Treason
I don't expect you to understand son, you are just a Cub
Color coded: "Yellow in front, brown in the back"
At the butcher shop, where they sell kid-knees.
Urine angel.
Put him in your back yard.
How far away is the yard How could you know its better than mine You seem, frankly, a bit overconfident.
A milkshake
Because a Rolling Stone gathers no Moss.
Throw a bunch of pocket change in the middle of town. How do u tell who is the richest person in that village? Find the person who gathered the most change.