The family returned from Texas yesterday, totally exhausted.

As I was cooking dinner for them, I called out that it was time to set the table. My youngest ran to get silverware.

My oldest, however, ran to me. “Daddy,” he asked. “Do we have one of those big hammers they use in the circus?”

“What?” I turned the heat off on the stove and reached for a serving plate.

“You know, the big hammers?” he said. “The ones they use to pound the tent stakes down into the ground?”

“A sledge hammer? No. We don’t have a sledge hammer.”

“Oh.”

“Wait,” I said, holding the plate of steaming food. “Why did you want a sledge hammer?”

He flashed a goofy grin. “I was gonna pound some stakes into the floor.”

I didn’t have an answer for that one. I carried the food to the table his brother was just finishing setting.

I’m hoping the whole thing was just an incredibly creative way of getting out of setting the table. I’m really, really hoping.