"Honey, be a little patient. I'll help you out as soon as I'm done with this, okay?" Lee sighs, crouching down on the floor as he picks up the broken fragments of glass from a mug that just shattered when your elbow accidentally knocked it off the table. He makes sure to be careful, not to injure himself or accidently cut himself with the glass. It's been a hectic morning, stress piling up from his work and having to take care of you, his cranky four-year-old, while his wife went out to have brunch with her friends.

He doesn't know how he's still managing to stay sane and not snap with how you're demanding he pick out a pair of socks for you to wear among the three you've laid out for him on the table. He doesn't see why such a decision is so vital to you. They're just socks, are they not? Lee feels a migraine coming on. He's never seen you act so whiny before.