The setting is the dinner table. My daughter, Taylor is 9. My son Morgan is 7. My wife Tricia is 40.

Me: Who is this Steven you were talking about?

Taylor: He’s a boy at school.

Morgan: Yeah. He’s a boy who acts like a girl and he snaps his fingers in people’s faces. (He continues eating.)

Taylor: Yeah. (Nodding, matter-of-factly.)

Me: What?

Tricia: Leave it alone.