I had Nate and Kelly in the car with me last night coming home from a supper at church. Nate was tired, and slumped over in his seat. Kelly, being the Van Policeman, took it upon herself to try to get Nate to sit upright... "so the seatbelt can do its job". Alas, she was a bit vigorous in her pushing of Nate, to the point that his arm got a bit jammed in the armrest, and he started wailing.
Nate: Ow ow ow ow ow ow... waaaah.... (other sounds that were toddler-esque, rather than the sounds I like to hear from my 6-year old). Kelly... you are bad and mean... ow ow ow ow
Kelly: I'm sorry, Nate. I was just trying to help you sit up straight SO THE SEATBELT CAN DO ITS JOB.
Nate: Well, you hurt my arm. It could be broken. ow ow ow ow.
Kelly: Nate, if you were sitting up straight, you wouldn't be hurt.
Me: Yup, Nate. I'm gonna have to go with Kelly on this one. You know that you can get hurt if the seatbelt can't do its job.
Nate; But Kelly, I AM NOT A SIDEKICK.
Kelly: *silence* *sounds of crickets*
Me: What do you mean, Nate?
Nate: (again, for emphasis) I... Am... Not... A... SIDEKICK.
Kelly: Sit up straight so the seatbelt can do its job, Nate.
Me: I still don't know what you mean, Nate.
Nate; *eye roll* I mean... that I don't know everything. And I don't KNOW that something bad is going to happen, because I don't know things before they happen.
Me: Oh... so you're telling me that you're not PSYCHIC?
Nate: Yeah. I'm not a sidekick.
Kelly: Nate! That's NOT the same. A sidekick is someone that stands beside you and fights the bad guys.
Nate; Well, I'm not psychic either, then. Hmph.