It's about 7:30, and I pop out, notice that the TV is on, and the boys are looking to be settling down in front of it. I point out that Little Fayoumis has not yet had supper.
TV goes off. "Are you hungry?" "No."
BIG sighs from both of the present parents, and the TV remains off. Sure enough, a minute later, Little Fayoumis is in the kitchen with a request for food. Why are we not surprised? A cheese sandwich is issued, I issue a notice five minutes later that the next time I see him with his feet on the bottom rungs of the coffee table like that leaning back in his chair like that, he is going straight to the corner.
And I sail back into my room.
A reasonable length of time to scarf a cheese sandwich later, from the living room, I hear a muffled exchange about it being too late for a movie. I pop out of my room, send Little Fayoumis straight to the corner, and explain to a bemused marxdarx that, in fact, he'd already had his movie for the day, and he'd asked me for another and I'd said no, and he was therefore in trouble.
And I explained to Little Fayoumis, after the crying had chilled out, that asking Marx for a movie wasn't the thing that was bad; he could ask Marx for movies, but, the thing that was bad was trying to trick marxdarx into giving him two movies where he is only supposed to have one.
And I sent him to bed. It was time, anyway.