Little Man Tate

Fred and I are just getting
ready to do a little duet.

The kid's got an appointment.
Then we'll just make it one quickie
little verse, if that's all right with you.

- Yeah, whatever.
- Fred.

that there's just too little of
- You were playing backwards again.
- It's a stupid song, Dede.

Dede says I don't have a dad.
She says I'm the lmmaculate Conception.

That's a pretty big responsibility
for a little kid.

His allergies might be getting better,
but I see no improvement in the stomach.

Has he been following the diet?
Fred just doesn't like baby food.
He never liked it.

Does he like havin' an ulcer?
Dede, if he doesn't follow the diet...

...he's not gonna get better.
That's as simple as that.

Jeez, drink a little water,
will you, Freddie?

- I spilt some.
- So you did.

Why don't you wait for me at the table?
We're almost through here.

I tell you, Dede...
...I've seen cops on the bomb squad
with better stomachs than he's got.

- He does worry a lot.
- About what?

About the world. About me.
The only thing he should be
worrying about is a loose tooth.

He's got his whole adult life
to be miserable.

Hey, you know what day
next Saturday is?

You get your period.
I spend the day alone in the park.

Very funny, lame-o. It's your birthday.
- Oh, my God.
- Come on!