Maybe I watched too much Dexter while I was pregnant?

The other day, Sage walked over to me, smacked me in the face, and said, "Cry." Then, he stared at me expectantly.

After the shock wore off, it took all my strength not to crack up, but I did manage to sniffle out injured sounds, explain that hitting is not allowed in our house, it hurts, he wouldn't like it if someone hit him, etc. He simply looked at me with one of those little evil-baby smiles plastered across his face, and then wandered off to crayon the walls. Meanwhile, I checked to make sure the knife drawer was still babyproofed.