the perils of being a self-taught reader

The Brawn says, "So. Dad. Scrohjum and...what's the name of the one who always yells 'that's it!'?"

I am momentarily poleaxed by the name I cannot possibly have heard properly. I therefore reply, cogently, "...what?" 

"What's the name of the one who always yells, "that's it!"? 

I look down at the book he's holding and things become slightly more clear. 

"Lucy." 

"Right. So. Scrohjum and Lucy are talking and" and he proceeds to recount to me a strip he's just read which he loves. 

I very much look forward to reminding him of this when he's a teenager and feeling (mainly correctly) that his dad's an idiot.