Somehow Little Brother’s water cup wound up in the middle of the dinner table, and he couldn’t reach it.
“Please hand Little Brother his cup,” I requested.
The cup was picked up, and waved around high above Little Brother’s head.
“Hey! If there’s a spill, you’re cleaning it up,” I threatened.
“ME?” Little Brother asked.
“No, not you. The one who’s playing Keep-Away with your cup.”