We took the kids to see a local place called Tiny World, which is populated with miniature houses, shops, gas stations, schools, and churches, built by a retired gentleman who had too much time on his hands and started out with building a house for his cats. It snowballed from there. And, at Christmastime, he decks the place out in lights. There's (very) hot cocoa.
It's pretty cool.
Afterward, we decided to go out to eat (actually, we decided this before we left the house; both of us were still reeling from the earlier events of the day, the kids—thankfully—were blissfully unaware, and neither of us felt like cooking). Hubby selected an Asian buffet not too far from Tiny World. The kids have had Chinese before, so we knew we could find something they'd like.
It turned out to be a bit more daunting to find something they would all eat, but at least they ate.
As we were finishing our meal, this conversation took place, after Hubby and the Fries had returned from the dessert/salad bar area with a selection of fruit.
Hubby: Eat your orange.
Small Fry: It's yellow, not orange.
Hubby: It's an orange.
Small: But it's yellow.
Hubby: Fine. Eat your yellow.
Five minutes later...
Hubby: You can have ice cream once you eat your—
I can't make this stuff up.