Everyone in my family is 3 years old.

We return from our anniversary dinner to find my parents at the kitchen table, discussing something boring.

"Well, how was it?" my mother asks, smiling broadly.

"Oh great," I reply. "The food was amazing!"

Both parents stare at me with giant grins on their faces.

"So it was good?" my father says.

"Nothing was . . . uncomfortable about the evening? Nothing . . . awkward?" my mother chimes in.

"Ummm, no." My parents are totally losing it.

"Why don't you take off your coat?" my father suggests.

I do, and both of them start giggling. I twist around to find a clothespin attached to the back of my sweater.

My mother is about to pee herself. "I put that on you before you left!" she cackles.

"HONEY," I say pointedly to the DNB. "Remember how it's us against the world? You're supposed to watch for these things!" Then I pause, remembering. I let the host take my coat as we entered the restaurant. "So everyone in that very fancy dining establishment saw it. Probably they were all making fun of me."

"Yes," my father replies solemnly. "We've been getting calls . . ."