Mommy the Maid.

So, do you want to know what my two boys just did? Do you??

Leon, sprawled on the floor, propped up on the zebra pillow, eyes glued to the TV screen and hands glued to the Xbox remote, tells Milo that Daddy really needs a beer, will you go get one for him?

This, I believe, is his way of venting minor frustration at the knowledge that if he wants a beer, he will actually have to pause the game, get up, and get it himself. Also his passive-aggressive way of making his desires known to me so that I, his wife-maid, will go get it for him. Fortunately for him, this was the perfect excuse I needed to get up and go into the kitchen for that last donut I'd had on my mind.

Anyway, Milo hops up and takes off across the living room. He's a man on a mission. I'm thinking, poor guy, hope he doesn't freak when he gets to the fridge and remembers we've had the child lock on there for quite awhile now (the lemon juice incident was the last straw--did you know that standing in a puddle of congealing lemon juice long enough will actually cause the skin on the bottom of your foot to feel like it's TEARING OFF when you try to walk away?).

But no, he's not heading for the kitchen. Instead he makes a beeline for mom, sitting on the couch, minding her own business.

*smack smack smack* "Mommy. Daddy!" (gesturing wildly behind him at daddy) "Get! Beert!" (Yeah, that's how he says beer...and soda, for that matter [thanks, Root Beer]).

The best part was the look on his face...total indignation. On Daddy's behalf.

The second best part: Daddy almost had a tear in his eye, smiling at His Boy.