When my little family makes it upstairs for breakfast at a reasonable hour, (i.e. before 8:30) we can typically catch Papa on his way down to the bathroom to fix his bedhead.
Audrey starting asking quite some time ago what had happened to his hair to make it stick up all over.
The conversation will usually go something like this:
Audrey: Grandpa, what happened to your hair?
Papa: I got into a pillow fight with your grandmother.
Or: I slept on an egg beater last night.
Or: I had a brain-quake.
Or: I had a brain storm followed by a folicular typhoon.
The first few times, Audrey looked at her father or me to see if Papa was kidding. After a while, she just started responding with: Oh, Grandpa, you're so silly.
Papa has obviously enjoyed the dependability of Audrey asking this question because he comes up with something new and more imaginative or outlandish every time.
A couple of weeks ago, I spent somewhere around two hours up in my parent's room asking grammar questions. I was up to my eyeballs in text and found that I was confusing myself with it, so I went to the Human Lexicon and asked about everything that was causing me issue. I think I wore him out with all of it.
The next morning, he came down the stairs and before Audrey had time to notice him, he gave me a surly glare and said, "I was wrestling with a dictionary ALL night because someone asked me questions for two hours!"
I laughed, not apologetic in the least and as Papa made his way down the second flight of stairs, Audrey piped up.
"Oh, so THAT'S what happened to your hair!"
I couldn't possibly have come up with a better comeback, myself!