Me to the son: There's more food if you're still hungry.
The son: No, I'll just wait for cake.
Me: Well, if you want, I'll call you when I serve dessert, since everyone else is still eating.
The son: Well! I have stuff I need to do first!
Me, puzzled: What?
The son, with great drama and gestures: Bring in those.
He exits into the garage.
Me to the rest of the assemblage: He just needs to wheel the garbage cans to the side of the house. You'd think he had to take them to the back of the beyond.
The daughter: The Arctic Circle.
The spouse: The Serengeti.
The daughter: With no food or water.
The spouse: Armed with a toothpick.
Me: To fight off the sand fleas.
The daughter: What's a sand flea?
The spouse: A flea.
Me, helpfully: It lives in the sand.
The daughter: It would be hard to catch a flea. You can't even step on it. It would sink into the sand.
Me: Hence the toothpick.
The son returns and washes his hands.
The son: What's this about a toothpick?
The spouse: We figured you were using it to joust with a sand flea.
The son, without missing a beat: No, actually, I dropped the toothpick and it was all hand-to-hand combat from there. Where's the cake?
Go listen to some music: "Policy of Truth" from the album Violator by Depeche Mode.