"Mommy, I'm fresh," says the boy as she wipes him down before dressing him for school.
"Fresh?" asks Mommy.
"No, Mommy, I'm FRESH," he says again as she puts on his jeans and teensy white t-shirt so that he's a walking mini-me of her.
"Yes, Bubba, you're fresh and clean," she mistakenly interprets.
Frustrated, he sighs. "No, Mommy, Pinnochio is a wooden boy. I [gesturing to himself] am flesh."