It was the Winemaker's birthday on Sunday, so we invited his mom, brother, sister-in-law and niece over. I put out the fancy plates, which are a mismatched set of pottery and china, some of which were inherited from my mom's mismatched set collected over the years. The Winemaker quietly stepped in as our kids were serving up and swapped them both out for the plastic plates they usually use. I said, "Oh, I told them they could use the nice plates," and he calmly replied, "I don't think you really meant it." He didn't say, "Why the hell did you say that?" or even "Well, I don't want to find you sobbing in the bathroom because they broke one, like has already happened on TWO DIFFERENT OCCASIONS when you let them use your mom's stuff." He just fixed it for me.
On the other hand, I handled the three days of collecting stool samples on both kids for their pediatrician. I when I say "handled," I mean handled. If that's not taking one for the team, I don't know what is.