Emily Post

In the midst of the screaming sobbing mayhem that is our daily exit for school, Stryker was the eye, silent.

Seems he was contemplating ethics, 11-year old boy style, because once in the van he had these questions.

"If I say 'I don't mean any offense, but you're a real idiot' is that rude?"

Me (can't help myself): "I guess it depends on who you're talking to. Some people are real idiots."

He contemplates that one for a second.

Then: "Why is it that when we're home and we have a guest, our family rule is 'the guest rules.' But when we're at someone else's house and we're the guest, our family rule is that the host comes first?"

Me: "That's so you're the polite one every time."

Ah, the question was just bait.

Stryker leaps and grabs: "That's totally unfair and one-sided. I knew that rule wasn't fair. You just admitted I always have to suffer. Why am I always the one that suffers?"

We hear honking. A mean driver, I nearly join in out of sheer blood lust.

Thrilled, Merrick points to the two dueling vehicles" "Look! That idiot is honking at the idiot!"

Boy, I am laying some quality psycho-social groundwork here.