Me: Mike. Are you awake? MIKE!

Mike: Yes, I’m awake. How can I sleep when you keep waking me up for Tito’s Tacos commercials and Jesus Cat?

Me: You said the Tito’s Tacos theme was our song! Don’t be hating on it now.

Mike: I’m not hating on Tito’s. I’m hating on being woken up every five minutes by someone that isn’t Maddie.

Me: Are you hating on Jesus Cat? Because that’s sacrilegious.

Mike: Do you really want to get into what is and is not sacrilegious?

Me: No, just accept the awesomeness of Jesus Cat so we can move on.

Mike: Whatever. Is that all?

Me: No…I can’t remember what I was going to ask you.

Mike: OK. Good night!

Me: Wait! Do you want to be cremated?

Mike: Right now?

Me: No! When you die! Do you want to be buried or cremated?

Mike: Are you really asking me this at 2:42 in the morning?

Me: YES! So, which is it?!

Mike: Well, I think my mom would freak out if I was cremated. But that would be your problem, not mine.

Me: Where do you want to be buried?

Mike: Are you asking me this because you’re planning to kill me so you don’t have to make me breakfast for Father’s Day?

Me: No! I think now that we have Maddie, we should, you know, put our affairs in order. And also because I’m making you breakfast and it may very well kill you.

Mike: You don’t have to worry about me dying yet.

Me: Who said I was worried?

Mike: (ignoring me) I haven’t heard of any guy having a heart attack and dying before the age of 50 that wasn’t on coke. So you have, like, 17 more years of me at the least.

Me: Unless you take up coke.

Mike: True. And that’s entirely possible if you continue to talk to me at 2:42 am.

Me: What if something else happens to you? What if you get caught in the middle of a cat fight?

Mike: A…what?

Me: You know, a cat fight. Kitties. Rawr. Meow. They can get really mean.

Mike: Oh, I thought you meant like a lady fight or something.

Me: Ladies don’t fight, but bitches can get vicious. Anyway, I’m talking about animals. You could get scratched and bleed a lot. Or get the Cat Scratch Flu!

Mike: It’s Cat Scratch Fever, and you can’t die from it.

Me: You can die from correcting your wife all the time.

Mike: Whatever happened to asking Dr. Loooove to prescribe you sleeping pills?

Heather: ….Sooooo…cremated then?