Cassie: Alright, alright. I saw YOU mix up the box flaps the other time, too.
Max: That was once. You do it every single time. Look, I don’t even need you to fold over the flaps for me. Just point out the boxes you want sealed up and I’ll do it myself. You just mark them before you forget what’s in the box and which room it’s going to.
Max: That’s too much stuff in the box. It’s not going to fit. You’re going to rip the box!
Cassie: You know, I’ve had just about enough of your tone of voice. Bossing me around like I’m an idiot. I’m sorry that you had to wake up way before the noon hour and you’re tired and all that, but we’ve gotta get this room done pronto and I need your help. Just stop with the pissy tone of voice. I’m the mother and you can’t talk to me in that kind of voice.
Max: (blinking rapidly, then rolling his eyes dramatically) Well your tone of voice is equally suck-y.
Cassie: Maxwell Bollinger! Enough!
Max: Mother Bollinger! Enough!
Cassie: You can’t talk to me like that.
Max: You can’t talk to ME like that either.
Cassie: But I’m the mother. I can talk however I want.
Max: No you can’t.
Cassie: Show some respect. Son to mother.
Max: YOU show some respect. Human to human. Your tone of voice is like a nail through the skull.
Cassie: (sighing loudly) But sometimes I’m not even talking.
Max: Yes. But your breathing. Your breathing is also totally annoying. When you do those long, loud exhales. Like you’re doing yoga or something while we’re packing.
Cassie: Oh my God, Max. How old are you? The breathing is annoying?
Max: It is.
Cassie: Five more boxes I estimate and then you can go back up to your room and take a nap, okay?
Cassie: You’ll remember these packing times years from now…when you have your own family and you’re moving somewhere far from me.
Max: I’ll never have this many kids, this much stuff, so many stupid books. Never!
Cassie: Yep, these special, special times are times to remember…with your loudly breathing mother.
Max: What I’ll remember is that you don’t know how to pack a box.