After a hard day decluttering, Mommyo slumps at the dinner table and stares up at Daddyo with bleary eyes.
Daddyo, sympathetically: “My Daddyo intuition tells me that you have a case of the 6:47s and we need to get you up to bed stat.”
Mommyo’s head drops to the table in shame. Mommyo, whimpering: “But I wanted to stay up tonight.”
The Six-Year-Old, leaning over to Daddyo and whispering loudly in his ear: “Daddyo, I think you’d better carry her upstairs.”
Daddyo, brightly: “Cheer up, Mommyo. Last week it was the 5:47s. At this rate it will soon be ten or eleven before you need to go up.”