“You’re an idiot,” my wife, Lauren, affectionately tells me on our drive home from Visiting Day at our daughter Liz’s camp.

“Why?”

“The swimming. Tennis. Kickball!”

“They didn’t even play kickball,” I point out.

“Exactly.”  

I take a cookie from my pocket.

“Where did you get that?” Lauren asks. “Did you steal a cookie?”

“Liz raves about these cookies.”

“You just had two ice creams.”

“One-and-a-half … oh, you’re not good with fractions. That’s between one and two.”

“Funny … I think I should be allowed to have an affair. There has to be a law which allows it in special circumstances like these.”

“If you do, can he at least pay for camp?”