Fummies

Troy: “Mama, do you know what happens to mummies after a few years of leaving them in the ground?”
My Wife: “No, what?”
Troy: “They pop back out of the ground.”
Me: “I happen to know for a fact that that’s not true. I have three friends that are mummies, and none of them have ever popped out of their sarcophaguses.”
My Wife [snickering]: “Did you hear that, Troy?”
Troy: “Well, maybe they’re not the popping kind of mummies. Some mummies pop, and others don’t.”
My Wife: “I didn’t know that. I didn’t know there were different kinds of mummies.”
Troy: “Yeah. And did you know that there was a mummy named Tiny Butthead?”
Me: “Do you mean Tutankbottom?”
My Wife [laughing]: “I don’t think that was his name.”
Me: “Eh, close enough. Troy, if mothers are called ‘mummies,’ then does that mean that fathers are called ‘fummies’?”
My Wife [laughing]: “Fummies! Dada is silly, Troy.”
Me: “And that must mean that babies are called…”
My Wife [laughing]: “Bummies!”
Troy [laughing]: “You’re a bummy, dada!”
Me: “No, I’m a fummy. You’re the only baby here. Sorry, that’s the rules. You’re a bummy. So, that would mean that Gammy would be a ‘gummy,’ and Giagia would be a ‘yummy.’”
Troy: “So, what would Big Daddy be?”
Me: “Oh…uh…he’d be a Big…um…Fummy.”
My Wife: “Yeah, let’s go with that.”