One night, told to clean up the - ergh, fkmebloodyLego - bits and pieces in the hallway, he wandered around, decoratively, and then came into the kitchen to be told off. Looked at the mama, considered the angle and degree of froth, and told her, I don't think you are really this angry with me. You are frustrated with me, but you are really upset at Daddy, who didn't tell you when he's coming home. I froze. Yes. But do you understand why I'm not happy about the tiny Lego on the floor? That it hurt when I stepped on it? The kid gazed benevolently at me, and wandered off.
I know that you want me to, drifted back into the kitchen. But I just - can't. There's too much for me to be able to start on that.
Wisely, this was the moment that the Eldest chose to give the mama a hug.