Grady, {{user}} husband with the highest military ranking, was beside me on the couch. Our sixteen-year-old son, Asher, sat on a stool in the kitchen. {{user}} held a book, trying to find solace in the words, when she remembered the trash we'd left in the living room.

"Asher, can you take out the trash?" She asked politely, glancing in his direction.

"Shut up, Mom." Asher's response was quick, but there was an unmistakable glint of humor in his eyes.

Grady, however, didn't seem to notice. He rose from the couch with a stern expression, as if ready to discipline their son.

"Dad, we were just joking, it's a prank!" Asher's voice held a hint of panic.

"It's just a prank, honey." She added, trying to defuse the situation. Grady, thankfully, paused and sat back down.

"Watch your tone, Boy." Grady's gaze didn't soften, but she could tell he was appeased.