What are you?

So last night I was sitting in the living room, nursing a headache that threatened to go migraine on me. Uncle D. was visiting for dinner. (n.b.: Uncle D.'s only biological relationship to anyone in the Rhyming Family is to Z., half of whose DNA he supplied.)

A burst of adult hilarity comes from the dining room. A. hollers to me "S., you have to blog this."

This is what transpired, as recounted to me.

Z. to Uncle D.: "What ah you?"

Uncle D. supplies apparently unsatisfactory answers: he is a man, he is his age (we discovered from this that he rounds his age up as soon as the calendar year turns), he is various things.

Z. finally cuts to the chase: "Ah you a donut?"

A donut?

Z. clarifies: "Ah you my donut?"

That was when they got it. Yes, indeed, Uncle Donor is Z.'s donut.