What Happens When A Big Man Becomes A Big Baby

Was it really wrong of me to laugh at my big, strong husband when he came screeching out of my bedroom like a little school girl and stopped in front of me, demanding I to go clean up the mess my dog made while chewing a bone on the bed?

Was it really wrong to bowl over laughing when he got indignant when I told him to clean it up himself and he said he couldn't because it was "EWWIIEEE."

Was it really wrong of me to be snorting with laughter as I walked away (to ignore his request), mocking my large, manly, macho husband for his use of such a pansy ass word and his obvious disgust with what turned out to be just an itty bitty bit of dog drool and wet bone chunks on his pillow?

Since when did I become his maid, existing just to serve his every whimpy request? (Isn't that why we had kids?)

I mean, really, who wears the pants around here?