says Anna. “Oh, Eggs! Watch your juice. You’re spilling it all.”“No! You weren’t listening,” I say. “I don’t want him to come.”“I thought you just said you did,” says Anna, stripping Eggs stark naked and stuffing his pajamas straight into the washing machine.“I’m all bare. Look at my willy, Ellie,” says Eggs, practically waving it at me.“Yuck. Can’t you stuff him in the washing machine too, Anna?” I say.She’s on her knees, sorting through the dirty clothes basket, juggling little balls of socks.“You just wish you had a willy too,” says Eggs.“Attaboy, Eggs,” says Dad, finishing his coffee. “You’ve got these women sussed out. Right, I’m off.”“Why are you going so early?” says Anna. “Can’t you wait and take Eggs to school?”“No, there’s someone I’ve got to catch,” says Dad, scooping up Eggs with one arm and giving him a kiss.“Who?” says Anna, her fists clenching.“Oh, for God’s sake. Jim Dean, the graphics guy. Anna, don’t start.”“It’s not me that starts things, it’s you,”
