Actual conversation with John at 5:28pm today:
Me: Hey John! How was work? ["Hi Daddy!" Eric screams as he runs naked through the house. Rachel runs up to John in her diaper, says "hi" and runs back outside.]
John: Uh... hey.
Me: You just missed Rachel pooping in technicolor. I think she gets that from your side of the family.
John: [muttering] I doubt it...
Eric: Come downstairs!
John: Get some clothes on first.
Eric [after getting dressed with help from Mom] Come and play downstairs, Mommy!
Me: [looking at John] Which one do you want?
John: I'll take Rachel.
Hallelujah, because it's 95 degrees outside with humidity! I follow Eric downstairs to listen to the Belly Button song for the 418th time while finishing up laundry. As I take the laundry upstairs, Rachel shoots downstairs. John gets on my computer. The kids are happily playing in the basement. Peace and happiness. Which always lasts about .07 of a second before Rachel starts crying and/or Eric starts screaming.
Me: [looking at John] I will pay you a thousand dollars if you go downstairs with the kids right now.
John: What's this "Maids, not murder" thing on your computer??
Me: I haven't had a chance to actually read it yet. And the price just went down to $800...
John: [getting up] Alright...
Me: Thanks. Did I mention you get paid out of your paycheck? Since I don't actually have a paying job and all...
At this point, John said something I can't repeat here. But the kids played with Daddy for about 5 minutes before they tracked me down like a pack of crazed dogs in a fox hunt. And I learned that if I had a maid I would live 11 years longer and be less likely to poison John. But John would have to pay for that out of his check, too.