“Da-da, cook macaroni,” said Liam, obviously forgetting who was in charge.

“Was that a nice ask?”

“Cook macaroni please,” he corrected.

I didn’t really feel like cooking macaroni. They’d just had it the evening before, and besides, it takes like, four minutes to make, and that’s four minutes after the microwave is lit. Plus, Nate had done something with one of the cheese packets from the previous night’s macaroni-making, and I never could find it, so I’d had to take another from the clear, crinkly bag of hard little elbow noodles that Liam was currently holding.

“Actually, you know what? We don’t have any cheese,” I lied. “Yep. Mum-mum needs to get more cheese the next time she goes to the store.” Case closed. Now eat your dinosaur chicken.

“No Da-da, look!” he said, disappearing into the pantry.

Uh-oh, I thought, knowing this day would come. Knowing that eventually, their little nervous systems and cognitive abilities would advance to the point where it was no longer so easy to trick them about things like powdered cheese.

Moments later, he emerged, holding a new, complete packet of macaroni. “Here’s cheese.” He said, as he handed it to me and walked back to his chair.

Technically, that was not a nice ask, I thought as I got the microwave-safe bowl down from the cabinet, and remembered who was in charge.