Sarah was nudging Mia to eat her chicken tonight, explaining that eating chicken (as opposed to, say, something from last night’s sugar haul) would give her muscles. So Mia ate some chicken, and flexed her muscles, elbows at right angles, fists balled up, teeth clenched into an tense grin. We could see the muscles forming right there at the table.

Then Max ate some chicken, and he flexed his muscles, his face screwed up and angry.

Then I got into the act, flexing my own muscles, and the three of us exchanged grimaces, straining to keep our muscles tight.

After a beat, Mia looked at me and said “Now really do them.”

A moment later, Mia told us all about someone’s dad at school who had muscles that went two inches out from his arm. Then she looked over at me and cleared up any potential confusion. “Not you, Daddy.”