Bears can eat the moon.
Once cleaned with a baby wipe, breakable items can no longer be broken.
When in doubt, the explanation: "I saw it on tv" always works.
He has a baby in his belly.
Pizza is no longer pizza when cut in squares.
Allow me to elaborate on the Pizza comment. One night, we baked a Costco pizza for dinner. These pizza's are a little on the large side. Therefore, Matt decided it might be best to cut into squares as opposed to the usual triangular pizza pie-type slices. Before he did this, he ran it by me. To make sure that I, the neurotic, anal one with a preference on just about everything, especially when it comes to food, would be OK with this slight change in preparation. My response? Of course you can cut it in squares! Why would I care!? So, he proceeded to cut it into squares (they were actually more like rectangles, but whatever, I will let the technicality go).
I put a couple pieces on a plate for myself, and put one on a plate for Brock. As soon as he sees the square pizza slice on his plate, an absolute melt down occurs. "No, no, no, no, no. Not that piece. No. I don't want that piece! That's not pizza." He then runs out of the room, to get his stool, so he can see on top of the stove better to inspect what piece he might prefer. When he gets a good look at the entire pizza and sees that they are all misshapen. Well. Let's just say he didn't calm down enough to eat for a good 20 minutes.
Looks like Matt guessed wrong on who would care about Pizza cut into squares.