Six degrees

Tonight after dinner, Dan asked Seth to grab his bottle of vitamins from the bin that was on the counter nearby. Seth looked at him rather blankly and said "which bottle is it," at which point both of us said "it's the one that says Vitamins." ::sigh::

So he starts going through the bin and pulls out a bottle. "Anti-diarrhea," said he. Then he pulled out a big bottle of Ibuprofen, read the label silently, then tossed it back into the bin. "It's a white bottle," said Dan. Seth promptly pulled up a prescription bottle -- orange -- to which Dan said "It says VITAMINS on it." "I don't know which one it is. None of them say Vitamins." ::sigh:: I said "it might say One a Day or something on it." He responded, "none of them say Vitamins. " He then starting clicking off the bottles he found: "Ibuprofen." "Anti-diarrhea." "Menstrual Relief," said with a particularly sassy tone that promptly caused Dan to hop up from his chair, grab the right bottle and hold it up triumphantly in front of the boy. The boy responded, equally triumphantly "It says Central-Rite! Not Vitamins." Dan's response was a Father Knows Best "well, it starts with a V."

And that's when it started.

Seth: "Well, so does Ventricle."
Dan: "Ventilate."
Seth: "Vitreum. Yeah, I know chemistry stuff."

Dan didn't have a chance to regroup before Seth burst out with a loud "Ven-testicle." Proving that age old law of teenagedom: there are no more than six degrees of separation between a teenaged boy and a dirty, or pseudo-dirty, thought.