“You still have clothes in the dryer.”
“I know. Thanks.”
The voice floating down the stairs has a petulant tone about it now. “What do you want me to do with them?”
“Just leave them in there, honey,” I call, heartlessly icing another enemy in Mafia Wars. “I took out what I needed to wear today, but I didn’t have time to fold the rest. I’ll take care of it later.”
“Can you do it now?”
“I’m busy. I told you I’d take care of it later.”
“But I need to put my clothes in the dryer.”
“Oh. Well, just fold my clothes then, and leave them on my bed. I’ll put them in my drawers later.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“No. Why would you think I was kidding?”
The big sigh is followed by an extended period of grumbling.
I chuckle. This exact same conversation has taken place at our house a hundred times, but it’s the first time I’ve been on the winning side. Sometimes it’s good to be the parent.