This afternoon D1 decided to reorganize the tote in which I dump hers and D2's clothes, folding and sorting with geometric precision and persuading D2 that there really was no better way to spend the afternoon. Watching this, I said, "D1, I think when you are ten I am going to hire you to run the house for me."
"How about when I am seven?" she asked.
"Well, you have to be old enough to use the stove by yourself."
"Maybe when I am nine?"