I was cleaning the kitchen the other day when Jeanne brought her dinner dishes into the kitchen and tried to stuff them in the dishwasher. I had that puppy packed (what can I say? I was a huge Tetris fan growing up...), and I hit her with a dose of healthy righteous indignation.
"What?" she said.
"It's like you get to put the last brick in the Great Wall of China! I do all the work, and then you just put your plate in there."
She just laughed at me and handed me her plate. "You realize that the top dishes don't get cleaned because of that pot you put there, right?"
I studied it. "Yeah, but there are other pots beneath it to redirect the jets. We've got our bases covered."
I was awoken this morning by cries of "Daddy! Mommy! What's happening?" Lyla had suffered a bloody nose, and it was just heartbreaking to see her agitation while her body betrayed her a little.
I think someone is learning there's a limit to how far a finger goes into a nostril...