It was Sunday night as we sat down to dinner again. Earlier my wife had asked me if I wanted to wipe the outside table down. It's now warm enough in Phoenix that we can eat outside; two months from now we'll be eating inside again enjoying the air conditioning; but for the gap we'll eat outside.
I said it seemed like a good job for Andrew and besides, I needed to prime myself with underpants. My wife laughed.
So Andrew was summoned from his room; a few complaints later he was Windexing the table top and grinning.
Came dinner time and we sat down to spaghetti and garlic bread. I did the usual thing by now; 'what day is it?'. They sighed in anticipationa and admitted it was Sunday. 'and you know what that means don't you?'. 'Yes' they chorused, 'it's underpants on the head day!'.
Andrew, thinking he had me, asked 'would you wear underpants on your head if we were in New York?'. 'You better believe I would' was my reply as I donned them. He laughed.
I'm getting on very well with Andrew these days.