Weston turned fourteen the other day. Old enough to know better, I would think.
In conversation with his sister, Em:
"You should get on my trampoline and jump. It holds 250 pounds."
In conversation with me, his selfless, devoted, adoring mother:
"Mom, you could even fit in this hammock. It says it can hold up to 300 pounds."
We're so fat that between the two of us I think we could tackle him and sit on him until he apologizes.