“Sorry, Daddy,” Bud says, quickly pushing himself up from the table.  He strides over to the kitchen sink and turns on the water.  Then, without getting so much as a single drop on his hands, he slips over to the front door.

“Kids,” Bart says, chuckling.  “Reminds me of the last time I visited my children.  My granddaughter Claire was outside playing in the mud when they told her to come in for lunch.  She comes inside, grabs a burger, and starts chowing down, all with mud still on her hands.”

“I would’ve whupped her,” Sam says.  “Whup ‘em good and they’ll never do it again.  Except this one.”  He points over at Bud.  “He usually needs two or three before it’ll get through that thick skull of his.”