So, last night, we’re sitting watching some Dragon Tales when C finds a sticker on the bottom of his sock. The Sunkist sticker from his orange at breakfast apparently. He peels it off, thinks for a beat and sticks it on my cheek.

Thanks son. Just what I wanted, a sticker from the bottom of your foot on my face.

“Daddy’s an orange!” begins the chant from C and M. Laughter.

M then peels it off, because he wants to be an orange.

The doorbell rings. K and I are lazy tonight and ordered Chinese. I go to the door, making sure to close the inside door so Skyler the crazy jumping dog doesn’t assault the poor delivery guy. (As it she runs from the kitchen, where she has been eating dinner, her own special brand of spit foam around her mouth, barking and bucking. I think she did a good Cujo impersonation.)

I grab the food, pay the guy and wonder why he’s smirking at me. Assuming he’s glad my dog is behind glass, I move on. I call up to K that’s dinner is here. She makes her way downstairs.

“Why do you have an orange sticker on your face?”

Ah. That was the look I got. Thanks M. (Sneaky boy…)