Aunt: "What do you like on your hot dog?"
3 year old Tater: "A bun. And ketchup and mustard and pickles."

My 87 year young Grandma: "Those Cubs. They fall flat on their faces every October."

FG: "I can't find any spoons! I wonder where all of the spoons have gone."
Tater: "I think they're at the parade."

It's the bottom of the 8th inning, the first game of the playoffs, and my Chicago Cubs are down by several runs.  You'd think, 100 years since their last World Series victory, that Cubs Nation would have learned not to expect much in October.  But here we are, all tvs tuned in to watch them lose again.