This morning, after showering, my husband could not find his comb. He walked into the living room, wrapped in a towel. "What should I use to comb my hair?"
"Use a fork," I suggested.
"Use a fork that has food on it," my older son suggested.
My husband ended up using the ribcage from my older son's model human body, which was lying around disassembled on the counter.
"I don't care, you can use it," my older son said. "That's OK by me."
"It's a Mexican thing, to comb your hair with skeletons," said my husband.