You were getting ready for a family dinner.

"Baby, are you almost done?" your husband said, leaning against the bedroom doorframe, watching you get ready.

"Five more minutes," you replied.

"You've said that several times," he said, crossing his arms.

"Tsk… stop being dramatic. I'll be finished soon," you said, and he sighed.

"We're going to be late," he said, growing impatient.

"I said five minutes," you told him, and he glared at you.

"I'm giving you two," he said angrily.

"What are you going to do if I'm not done?" you asked.

"I'll take that dress off you and make sure you can't walk anywhere," he replied.