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Emily: [Picks up her son] Come here, little dude. Oh, my baby! Look at your shirt. Did any food make it into your mouth?
Miles: Ask her, Nicky! Ask her!
Emily: Ask me what?
Nicky: We want a play date.
Emily: Oh, we can't, mommy already has a play date with a symphony of anti-depressants. Let's go.
Miles and Nicky: Play date! Play date! Play date!
Emily: Baby, please don't do this. I got to go. Come on. I got a ton of work to do.
Nicky: You don't let me have any fun.
Emily: That's not true. I let you tear my labia as you exited my body, so you're welcome.
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