We're bunking out at my folks' this week, since Hubby is bunking with the teens (the group is on their annual summer mission trip to JOL camp).
I find it so much easier to play man-to-man defense when Hubby is out of town.
So, today, Hubby called from the road, after we'd finished lunch. He and the gang had spent yesterday at Cedar Point, so we hadn't talked to him since late Friday afternoon.
Medium was on my folks' landline as I came down the hall (I hadn't even heard it ring). I asked Dad who she was talking to. "Hubby," he said.
Large had an ice pack on her knee.
"She hit it on the table. I saw it happen, and asked, 'Are you okay?'" Dad mimed a huge intake of breath. "And then...'Aaaaaauuuuugh!'"
I kissed her boo-boo, and by then Medium had passed the phone off to Small.
I looked over just in time to hear Medium stage-whisper to her twin, "It's not Daddy S. It's our real daddy."
Yeah, they get it.