My Oldest, Age 15: (climbing into car) “What took you so long? I almost froze to death.”

Me: “Sorry. But, let’s be clear, I was only five minutes late.”

Oldest: “Except it’s February and now I have frostbite.”

Me: “Well, you would have been fine if you had a sweater or coat on.”

Oldest: “Yeah, like that’s my fault.”

Me: …

It’s An Option

Me: “Is it hot in here?”

Little Miss Thing, age 7: “You should wear a tank top.”

Wonderful Wife: “Please don’t.”

LMT: “Why not?”

WW: “I don’t think it’s an attractive look.”

LMT: “Who cares? You’re already married.”

WW: “Well, I think he is attractive, but not a tank top.”

LMT: “You can get divorced if you don’t like it.”

Me: (slow blink)

WW: (slow blink)

WW: “Hmmm… that’s not how that works.”

LMT: “It’s an option.”

Old Fashioned

Me: “Hey! Why are all these clothes thrown everywhere?”

Little Miss Thing, age 7: “We’re doing a fashion show.”

Me: “Who is WE, exactly?”

(dog walks out of closet, tail wagging, with a bathrobe belt tied around her middle and a bonnet on her head)

LMT: “Me and Sif. I made her beautiful.”

Me: “She was already beautiful. Are you sure she’s having fun?”

(dog wags tail and isn’t trying to leave)

LMT: “She loves her outfit. It’s French.”

Me: “Well, French or not, at least untie that belt and…”

LMT: “No!”

(long pause)

LMT: “Daddy, I don’t think you understand Fashion.”

Me: …

Me: “OK. I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”