Bird Is The Word

This was a long weekend, of course, which meant lots of good, healthy, Snag family fun.

"Jeez, dad, don't you find that even a little inappropriate?" asked my middle son. He was lying on the couch watching television.

"What's inappropriate?" I asked, plopping down on the other couch.

"Giving me the finger."

"Oh. That. Yeah, I suppose."

"In fact it borders on the morally reprehensible," he said.

"Big words for a little boy," I said.

"Thanks," he said. "But really, giving me the finger?"

"It's kind of funny, don't you think?"

"I guess. You're a horrible parent, though."

"That's my point," I said. "On a ten point scale, where would giving you the finger rate, compared to the other stuff I do?"

"About a three," he admitted.

"So there you are," I said.

"Mom still wouldn't approve," he said.

"I wouldn't approve of what?" asked the Lovely Bride, walking into the room.

"My outstanding parenting skills," I said.

"Yes," she said. "I lose a lot of sleep worrying that you're raising our children too well."

"Sleep well, my precious," I said, smooching her on the cheek.

The boy rolled his eyes and went back to his show.

"Can I punch you in the heart?" I asked him.

"Later, pops," he said.

"Right on," I said.

"Dear Lord," said the Lovely Bride.