The other day I took the kids to City Barbeque, still one of our favorite places to go (without mommy). The collection of sauces was on Jack’s side of the table, and as I reached in front of him, I said, “Sorry, Jack – please excuse my reach.” He didn’t say anything, just kept piling the mac & cheese in. A couple minutes went by and he says, “Oh, I’m sorry, please excuse my nose picking, guys,” jams his finger in his nose, and busts out laughing.