Not-quite instant karma

I never see my father so happy as when he's watching Samson spin the karmic wheel of wise-guy-ness in my direction. I'll have to call him with these two stories:

Story 1: At the dinner table. Samson, who is a good eater when he wants to be (unlike Jane, around whom you could lose a finger if you weren't careful) decided to turn a spoonful of applesauce upside down.

Me: "What are you doing?"

Samson: "Hey! I have applesauce on my shorts!"

Me: "What were you thinking?"

Samson: "Well, I am an astronaut. I don't have any gravity."

Story 2: Last night, around 8 pm. Samson, already put to bed, post-stories, post-glass of water, post-discussion about monsters and their potential hiding places, is heard on the stairs. Vicki and I are in the kitchen, and there he is, in the living room. In a cape.

Vicki: "You're supposed to be in bed. What are you doing?"

Samson: "I'm not sleepy, and I wanted to come downstairs, but I didn't want you to see me. So I'm in disguise."