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A lesson on 'Maxist Theory'

I have three children, all of them very unique. I have never mentioned any of their names. In fact, I have received considerable criticism for always calling my daughter "the girl." Today, that all goes away.

Like unmasking a superhero, the secret is out. Asked if it was OK if I shared so much about him, the 10-year-old simply said, "Why not?"

My youngest is named Max. He was named after the Yetter's dog. His nickname is Hurricane, a title bestowed the day he was born, for how he was born. There. It is out of the bag.

I often call him "Sprinkles." Because as we all know, sprinkles make everything better.

Max is the funniest person I have ever known, period. I say this despite the fact he cannot tell a joke to save his life. Or that he forgets stories while regaling them.

Max is funny for how he thinks and how he chooses to share. Plus, he just has a way about him. People are drawn to him.

Women young and old find Max adorable. In kindergarten three girls had an all out fist fight to be his girlfriend. Max was more interested in the tunnel slide.

I tell my oldest that he should use this to his advantage when they get a little older. In a social situation, throw Max out like chum ... to attract girls.

Max has always had an odd and marveling view of life. About a year ago, I started writing down some of the very random things he says as part of normal routine.

Today, let's dig into the mind of Max as he shares his views on topics in what I call "Maxist Theory":

On America: "I know it's kind of un-American and all, but I don't really like root beer floats."

On Michael Jackson: "Yeah, yeah, yeah ... I know him ... the guy who bleached himself and died."

On beatings: (holding up a picture of himself standing next to his much LARGER brother) "I keep this around to remind myself: don't start that fight."

On discipline: (in the middle of Dad yelling) "Now, now, use pleasant words, father."

On literacy: "It is now summer, I refuse to read!"

On dress clothes: "I am not wearing this shirt. It's like kissing your sister. And I don't like that kind of thing."

On flavor: "What? You don't like tacos? What kind of woman are you?"

On hunting: (After falling backwards onto his rear end while shooting) "Well, that didn't turn out exactly as I anticipated."

On obsession: "Mom, here is the deal. White Castle is MY Caribou Coffee."

On free candy: "You take none, you take a lot -- it's the same price."

On laundry: (oven mitt on his hand, arm extended) "It is very uncomfortable for a boy to touch his mother's bra."

On deer hunting: (while sitting silent and still, in a whisper) "Can you spear a deer?"

On world records: (in reference to the world's longest fingernails) "One question keeps coming to mind, how do you wipe your butt? Really -- how would you? Really -- how?"

On fine dining: "Do you think a Wahoo Valley burger is better than a White Castle burger?" (Without waiting for an answer) "Yeah, I know, it's not the same thing. I mean how do you judge that kind of thing. It's like picking your favorite parent."

On rural wisdom: "Did you know they used to wear red deer hunting? Mr. Mehl told me that ... Funny how things change like that, isn't it?"

On loyalty: "I don't get why that dog likes my brother so much. He knocks the crap out of him and he loves him the best." (Thoughtful pause) "Stupid dog."

On bandwagons: "I thought you said that Brett Favre was a bum, mom. Now it's like you want to marry him." (Yelling to other room) "DAD, you better start throwing touchdowns."

On financial planning: "Hey mom, if we move out to the country we will save money. We won't have to buy Halloween candy."

There you go. Not complete list, but a good look inside the mind of Max.

By the way, I might as well share the names of my other kids. Named after great figures in history, I am the proud parent of "The Oldest Boy" and "The Girl."