Raising kids right

So maybe a week ago, there's this largish brown paper bag, probably from takeout but it isn't all crumpled at the top or anything like a takeout bag would be, and it's cluttering the table. I grab it and put it on my head like a hat, making the obligatory french noises (snorts, whistles, hohh hohh hohh laughter, chef jokes, brief impersonation of James Coco's character in _Murder by Death_...). Nina laughs once and asks for the bag; I give it to her. She runs around the corner, re-emerges with the bag covering her entire head, and in her best lisping Sylvester Junior voice-- you know, Sylvester the cat's son in the old Warner Brothers cartoons-- she says to me, she says "I'm ashamed to show my face in public. My own father, beaten up by a mouse!"

To which I could only reply, "Now what's THAT thupposed to mean?"

Yes please, dear universe, more moments like these. Ok Thx Bye.