Oh yes, you are...

My favorite little sister is in town at the moment, so my family and I have been spending more time than usual at my parentals' abode.  Which is not really saying much, considering that we spend...most...of our time with my parents.  Hey, what can I say, that's what happens when one of us can't plan a dinner without consultation (sorry, honey, it's true), and one of us is both too busy at work to provide that consultation, and then too tired to cook when she gets home.  Not that that's giving away who is who in this scenario.  But regardless, my mom cooks.  So we eat with her.

Incidentally, we've gotten into the habit of going home to the in-laws' farm every other weekend for homecooked meals there as well.  It's a good life...

So we're all at my parents' house the other night, eating something delicious, and afterwards, we were all sitting around the table chatting.  Which my less-gabby husband will tell you we are wont to do.  Frequently.  Much to his chagrin. But while the adults were talking, E had wandered off to jump on the couch cushions (one of the benefits of it being Nanay's house, instead of Mom's...), so I asked him to start clearing the table.

Now, to be fair, we used to be really good about making sure he was involved in chores around mealtimes.  But recently, because our sit-down family-style mealtimes are sporadic and too-short (yes, he'll probably end up in jail because I don't make a balanced meal for him every evening.  So judge me.), D and I have gotten out of the habit.  More often than not, we let him escape for some playtime while we clear the table and do the dishes and have some precious discuss-the-day time.

Hence, his reluctance to participate at dinner the other night.  He obeyed, but grudgingly.  After he'd removed a few plates from the table, he thought to escape again, but I called him back and handed him some more things to clear.  At this point, his lower lip was quivering like an alcoholic with the shakes, and his eyes were beginning to fill with huge crocodile tears.  But I ignored him, until after putting the dishes in the sink, he stomped past me and screeched "I'm not your minion!!!"

I think I may have burst some veins in my eyes trying not to laugh.