In the kitchen before school this morning:

me:  (talking to myself, as I’m prone to do)  So I’ve got the kids packed up, quick shower, time for breakfast before the dogs go to the vet…

T-man:  The dogs have a vet appointment? (murmur of sympathy)

me:  Yeah. BOTH of them. And I guess we know how well that’s gonna go…

Bear:  Why don’t you ask dad to go?

me:  Because he has work, sweet pea.

Bear:  Well…why don’t you call Mr. Dave?

me:  Ummm…why would I do that?

Bear:  Because HE has dogs. I bet he would help you.

me:  Yes, but he has a job, sweet pea.

Bear:  I know.

(Then why on earth did you think I should call him??  I am perplexed.)

me:  See, this is MY job.  (confused looks from both kids)  Dad’s job is to go to his office and do what HE does, MY job is (waving hands around) all of this, and that includes the dogs.  Sometimes dad helps me if I get jammed up but mostly this is all me.  I just…handle it.  And this morning that means getting both dogs to the vet.

(brief pause)

Bear:  So…you have to PAY your job to DO your job?

me:  Yes. Yes, I do.

Sigh…