A teacher at Falkville Elementary School called down one of her students for interrupting class on a recent day.

“Are you talking?” she asked the boy.

“No, Ma’am,” he answered.

“Well, your mouth is moving and sound is coming out. What would you call it?”

Before the accused boy could respond, my son Henry raised his hand with the correct answer.

“Yes,” the teacher said.

“That’d be lying,” Henry said.

You never know what to expect when a child offers his advice, but something of his personality usually escapes.

A few years and pounds ago, for example, I wrote a few motivational words on the refrigerator door.

“Eat right!” the words on the erasable message board read.

A few days later one of my more mischievous children added a single word that changed everything.

“Eat right now!” the message read.

That’s a diet I can follow.

Another time, my son Seth’s driver education teacher asked if anyone was learning to drive a car with a manual transmission.

Seth raised his hand.

“How do you know when to shift?” the teacher asked.

“By the expression on my mom’s face,” he answered.

So much for tachometers.

My great nephew Trent is a bruiser of a 3-year-old who frequently runs through the house in jubilation.

Just how happy is the curly haired child?

“I’m happier’n a tornado in a trailer park!” he yells in a slow Southern drawl.

My youngest daughter Evie is a no-nonsense girl who knows exactly what she wants. Her grandfather, the Rev. A. Ray Lee, loves to recount the first time they went out to a restaurant for breakfast.

“How would you like your eggs cooked?” a waitress asked Evie.

It sounded like a dumb question to Evie, who stared back at the waitress in confusion.

Finally, Evie told the waitress the obvious answer. The cooking method that any competent food-service professional should know. The best way to cook an egg.

“Cracked,” Evie said, “and in a pan.”

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