"There were all these tiny robots coming up from under the ground. Everyone was running away from them but not me. I'd pick them up and rub them together to break off their heads!"
"Oh, so they were bad robots?" I ask, since I generally envision robots as my savior, like Rosie, the Jetsons' robot maid who did the cleaning and probably even kept those damned space age kids from waking up their parents when the bed felt especially warm and cuddly. But I digress.
"Yeah," he chuckles, "But I got them. I smashed them together, and then when the big one came I karate kicked him. Then I karate punched him!" As he talked, he demonstrated. Well as much as he could while sitting on my bed with no giant robot to hit or kick. And the excitement was contagious. Little Dog, who had previously invaded my bed sat up and listened.
Big Dog continued, "I reverse punched him, then I roundhoused kicked him. Then I side kicked him. "
Little Dog's eyes got wide.
"Then I karate kicked him and karate punched him!"
At this point, Little Dog couldn't hold back one more moment. In a burst of enthusiasm, he blurts out, "And I karate pooped on him!"
I guess I missed that day of class.