Reasons Why Ken Should Divorce Me

So Ken and I are making a list this morning about all the things I'm hoping to get done before the cousins' birthday party at the end of June/beginning of July. I'm giddy for two reasons:
1. I love making lists
2. Most of the items on the list are things that Ken will do, not me.

Example:

Me: Ok, we need to repaint the- hmmm- what do I call it? What should I call the living room/foyer/hallway combo?
Ken: The whole house. You call it the whole house. Write down "paint the whole house".
Me: Yeah. Ok, but don't you want me to make it sound less labor intensive?
Ken: (glares)
Me: Ok, "paint whole house". Now, the floors. We're going to replace them anyway, don't you think-
Ken: (cutting me off) Woman- no. We're not going to replace all the floors before the party. No.
Me: Oh. Alright, but I'm going to put it down anyway, just in case we're looking for a little extra to do after everything else is done.
Ken: (glares)
Me: I love making lists. This is great. I'm going to post it on the fridge so we can cross off each item as we do it.
Ken: glaring at the list, muttering something that sounds like "we?"

And the Joaquin Hits Just Keep A Coming

Joaquin has asked me to tell him the story of the Three Little Pigs for the past several nights now for his bedtime story. He finds it charming (I like to imagine) when I name the little pig brothers "Joaquin pig", "Gabriel pig" and "Jude pig", though sometimes he likes me to stir things up by changing the medium the pigs use to build their houses. Last night he wanted "Joaquin pig" to make his house out of trains, for example.

But this morning took the cake. He came into bed with us, and asked me to tell him the story. I agreed, but he wanted to make sure that Joaquin pig made his house out of something that sounded like "nubbles".
"Nubbles?" I repeated, because sometimes if I say the word back I can figure out what he's trying to say.
"Yeeeaaaaaaah" he agreed.
"What are nubbles?" I asked, certain I was missing something.
"You know, nubbles, like what you use to nurse with."

Yes, Joaquin pig was going to build a house of nipples.

I'm looking forward to vacation, if only to prove to other people that these children are as insane as they sound in print.

Conversation Between Joaquin and Myself, 7:30 p.m. Tonight:

As I'm putting Joaquin to bed tonight, he engages me in the following bit of conversation:

J: Mama, if you clean the whole house, including picking up my toys, I will give you a dollar!!
M: A whole dollar?!
J: Well, no. I will give you a piece of money.
M: A piece of money? What kind of money?
J: Metal!
M: You mean a coin?
J: Yeah. But, wait. You will have to share the money with me. Because I want to buy three things with it.
M: I have to share with you?
J: Yeaaaaah.
M: What three things do you want to buy?
J: (holding up three fingers) A gun. Something from Cars. And a play golf set. Yeaaaaah. Golf!

So I am not going to clean my house tonight, simply to avoid an opportunity for my three year old to purchase a gun.