In This House

The Scene:  Evening.  Dinner bubbling on the stove just about ready to go on plates.  I’m finishing up the food, The Boy is setting the table.

The Boy:  “Darling?” (Except he didn’t really say darling, but I’m not telling anyone what he did say, as the pet names of a household really should remain private.)

Me:  “Yes my love?”

The Boy:  “Did you know there is a large piece of driftwood on the table?”

Me:  “Yes indeed.”

The Boy:  “I see. Um.  Why is there a large piece of driftwood on the table?”

Me:  “To prop up a sock for a picture.”

The Boy:  “Ah of course.  In this house that makes perfect sense.”

Me:  “Yes, yes it does.  You do know I’m telling the internets about this, don’t you?”

The Boy:  “Happy to do my part.”