We pulled out onto the road and Gideon asked where we were going.

“To get tacos,” Lydia told him.

“Oooooh no!” he moaned. “I hope we are not going to Taco Bell!”

I glanced at him in the mirror. “Why? Don’t you like Taco Bell?”

“Yes,” he said, bottom lip completely folded over. “I like it, I just don’t want to take a bath when I get home.”

“Um… what?” I glanced at him again to see if he was serious. “What are you talking about? That’s not the way this works, little man.”

His mother cleared her throat. “Actually it is.”

“What?”

I saw Lydia pat her brother on the shoulder, “Gideon is really REALLY bad at eating tacos.”

I nodded. “Okay, well. We don’t have to eat at Taco Bell if you don’t want to take a bath.”