My frightening-writerly 6-year-old

Jack and I were playing that I was his household robot, and like most media sf scenarios, I went into "tickle" mode and couldn't be stopped. "I pressed your off switch," he yelled.

"Negative," I replied in my robot voice. "I cannot be shut off. I am using my secret power supply, an energy crystal that fell to earth, presumably in a meteorite."

"Dad," Jack said scornfully, "We got rid of that energy crystal in the middle of season three."