Lloyd (getting shirt out of drawer): This shirt is dirty!
Lloyd: I can't wear this! It smells like underarms!
Me: What are you complaining about? It's a miracle any shirts even get into your dresser. You should be grateful. And if you don't want your dirty clothes and your clean clothes mixed up, you should put your dirty clothes in the laundry room, instead of on the floor where the clean clothes are.
Lloyd: I don't even know what to say to that.
Then, after Lloyd went to work in a huff, I was took a leisurely 30 second shower and came out to this:
Weston: Shhhhhh, you're okay. Want me to kiss it?
Me (picking up Shane): He sounds like he's really hurt, Weston. What happened?
Weston: Ummmm, we were playing.
Me: I see that. How did Shane get hurt?
Weston: Welllllllll, I hit him with this ('this' is a hollow, hard plastic tube, about 18 inches long and 1 1/2 inches in diameter). On accident.
Me: Where did you hit him?
Weston: Ummmm, in the face. On accident. Twice.
Me: I see that this is too dangerous to have out; I'll have to put it away.