At our house, before my trip to Harris Teeter (Teeter! Hee hee!):
"So tomorrow, I've got that wedding, but in the morning I think I'm shooting the people who won that charity auction, you know, that one last month?"
"Charity auction! Yes! There's one tonight at work, and we're going, right?"
"Robert. It's already 6:00. We've got to get food, feed the kid, get her in bed before she turns into a raging lunatic... we'd never make it."
"Can we get a sitter?
"No, babe, we cannot get a sitter in 20 minutes. I wish I'd known before FIVE SECONDS AGO."
"MAMA! I POOP! I DON'T LIKE IT!"
(Norah often claims that she has done this, because she knows I'll take her diaper off, and if she's fast and I'm slow she can escape and run pantsless through the house.)
"Oh, you did not. I'm going to get food. I'll be right back."
Half an hour elapses while I go to Harris Teeter (snort!) and buy groceries.
"So I got strawberries since I can't make it to the farmers' market tomorrow."
"Hey, great. Did you get the canned food?"
"Canned food? What?"
"I have to take canned food for the auction. It's a donation drive thing."
"I'm going to the auction. I needed canned food! What am I going to do now?"
"ROBERT. You didn't TELL me you were going, and frankly the fact that you're leaving here on a Friday night when you came home late last night and I'm not going to see you for two days because I am going out WORKING and making MONEY is really PISSING ME OFF. And NO I did not get you any stupid canned food, you can just go get it YOURSELF!"
Thirty seconds of silence elapse.
"So you think I should get like, corn, or what?"
"NO! DADDY! I DON'T LIKE IT!"