Mom Isn’t Down For The Count

(When this happens, I’m two years old, my sister is four, and my brother is about six months. My mom greets Dad at the back door as he comes home from work, which usually means we’ve been absolute terrors and she’s waiting to tag out.)

Mom: “You know, you’re a lucky man.”

Dad: “Okay…”

Mom: “You have three beautiful children.”

Dad: “Yeah…”

Mom: “And even after today, you still have three children!”

Dad: “‘Still’?”

Mom: “I tried to sell two of them to the circus but they wouldn’t take them, so ‘still’.”

Dad: *asking what is obviously the most important question in this circumstance* “Which two?”

Mom: *glaring* “Your son is six months old. He doesn’t refuse lunch, run around the house, scream my name all day, pull everything out of the cupboards, or throw things at his sisters. He also goes down for a nap without a fuss. Which two do you *think* I tried to sell!?”