The Scene: It's dinner time at the Peacock family table. Since it's my Birthday I've spent the past hour assembling a new bike for Jason. No, I'm not exactly sure how that happened either. Anyway, nobody was hungry and it was a celebration day so we skipped dinner and went right into the cake. This sort of made cake the dinner using my well primed kid-logic.

Jason (3): I want ice cream!

Me: No ice cream until you finish your dinner.

Jessie (wife): It's cake, Jim.

Me: Doesn't matter. Cake is dinner so no desert until he eats his cake. [ed - There was just enough chocolate ice cream for a big ol' bowl for daddy later in the evening. This explains my resistance to sharing.]

Jimmy (2): I wan tizzurt!

Jason: I want desert!

Me: You got a bike. You don't need desert. [ed - There was vanilla ice cream left but that belongs to Momma. Although I was weakening by this point I was wise enough not to consider offering the vanilla.]

Jason: Please can I have...

Me: 'May I'

Jason: Please may I have ice cream?

Jimmy: Pease can have tizzurt?

Jeremy (5): Please Daddy?

Me: Well, okay. [ed - There's really no saying no at that point. The combined cuteness of the three of them cuts through any defense like Han Solo's blaster through a wet jawa.]

[Break - Ice cream has been dished out to all 3 children plus Daddy. Momma abstained. All of the chocolate ice cream is gone. Score, Jason 1 - Daddy - 0.]

Jason: I want chocolate!

Me: You have chocolate.

Jason: I want more chocolate!

Me: You've still got cake on your plate. Eat that.

Jason: No. I want more ice cream.

Me: There isn't any more.

Jason: No more ice cream?

Me: No more chocolate. There's only vanilla left. [ed - Damn these inquisitive children and their many questions! What is this, the Inquisition? I am determined that there will be some sort of ice cream left for my own very greedy purposes whilst relaxing before heading off to slumber.]

Jason: Can I have some zafilla? [ed - Jason used to say 'tamilla' for vanilla. He can say 'vanilla' with no problem now but subs in different letters out of his unshakeable sense of tradition as well as a desire to irritate me. It doesn't work - I pretend to be annoyed but I really think it's cute as hell.]

Me: That's Mommy's. You'll have to ask her.

Jason: Momma, can I have some familla ice cream?

Jessie: You need to ask your Daddy. He'll have to go get it. [ed - I am the official ice cream scooper of the household. Proper scoopage of decently frozen ice cream requires manly upper arm strength or one of those heated scoopers. Only losers use heated scoopers.]

Jason: Daddy, can I have some rabilla ice cream?

Me: No.

Jason: (shocked silence)

Jeremy: Burn!!

[Final score: Jason 1, Daddy 1. I retire with the tie - no need to press my luck on such a festive occasion.

I ended up not having any ice cream that evening. But I could have!! Go me!]