Saturday morning and Olive is up unusually early (for her anyway) and is hungry. Marc gets up and throws on a pair of my flannel pants that are on the floor. He takes her downstairs to get her some breakfast and turn on the TV, in the hopes that we can get a few more minutes of sleep. I hear them down in the kitchen:
"Daddy? Are those Mommy's pants?"
"Yes, Olive, they are."
"Daddy? Did you just fart in Mommy's pants?"
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