"They [batteries] come from here in Daddy's cellar."

The Flashlight, that looks like a frog, ribbiting when you push a button that opens its big mouth to shine a spotlight has gone dead.
Dad: "How did that happen?"
NIck: "Well, I left the light on."
Dad (in Southern drawl): "Well, wot do ya' thin'; batteries grow on trees?"
Nick jovially responded in a stating-the-obvious intonation..