kindly-whisper-norbury:

Me: (catching a glass that tumbled out of the cupboard) Blunt the knives, baby!

My 12-year-old son: (singing) Blunt the knives, bend the forks… (mumbles because he forgot the words) …that’s what Bilbo Baggins hates! (Pauses) But what does Bilbo Baggins love?

Me: (shrugging) Food, books, his armchair… (under my breath) …Thorin Oakenshield.

Son: What?

Me: What?

Son: What was the last one?

Me: …his armchair?