I’ve been writing this column a long time, and over the years I have learned to take notes when funny things happen in my house.

I now have 91 pages of notes; 35,000 words. Enough to fill a 140-page novel.

Most of them are ideas for columns that will never be written — “What’s in my spam folder this week?” … “That time I cooked a frozen pizza upside down” … “Sometimes I feel like the only person left in the world who can spell” … “Me and my mustache.”

But many of them were nostalgic scenes from years ago, when my kids were little:

Me: Pancakes are not supposed to be finger food. Please use a knife and fork.

Boy: [ picks up knife and fork and starts twirling them like ninja swords ]

Me: [ glare ]

Boy: [ Puts down knife and fork, folds pancakes in half, then half again, then eats them in a single bite ]

Me: [ sigh ]

Boy: [ tosses pancake crumbs over his shoulder to the dog on the other side of the room ]

My son stuck out his tongue at the dinner table the other night, and before I could open my mouth to fuss at him, he rolled his tongue and declared, “We learned in biology today that that’s a dominant trait!”

Child 1: Can I shoot your bow and arrow?

Child 2: No.

Child 1: Why not?

Child 2: Because it’s brand new and I don’t want to mess it up.

Child 1: I won’t mess it up.

Child 2: No.

Child 1: Why not?

Child 2: Because you never let me borrow your comic books.

Child 1: Yes I do.

Child 2: You never let me borrow the ones I ask for. You always pick a different one and throw it at me.

I am having an over-under toilet paper war with someone in the house, but I don’t know who.

Child 1: Can I shoot your bow and arrow?

Child 2: No, because the last time I let you shoot my bow and arrow you stuck an apple on top of the target and tried to shoot it.

Child 1: That didn’t hurt anything.

Child 2: I asked you not to do it.

Child 1: But it didn’t hurt anything.

Child 2: Then you threw the apple at me.

Things my children fought about this month: What pencil lead is made of. Whether to watch “The Twilight Zone” or “The Andy Griffith Show.” Who got to talk first in the car on the drive home from school. Who interrupted who while talking on the drive home from school. How much chocolate syrup one should put on top of a bowl of ice cream. Whether they were really arguing or just discussing.

Me, from the front seat of the car: Do you two actually ENJOY arguing?

Daughter: No.

Son: Me neither.

Daughter: Yes you do!

Son: No I don’t.

Daughter: We’re not arguing.

Son: Yes we are.

Lisa Davis is Features Editor of The Anniston Star. Contact her at 256-235-3555 or ldavis@annistonstar.com.