You are correct.

Yes, LinkedIn, you are correct. Those are jobs I may be interested in. But now is not the time. We’ll talk later.

Yes, sweet boy, you are correct. I would better block your soccer kicks if I was paying attention. But your brother has a shovel. Forgive me for being distracted.

Yes, Superior Court, you are correct. I did defer last year as the breastfeeding mom of an infant. You did make it clear I had a year to get my nursling at least weaned enough to do jury duty. You warned me. I just kind of forgot.

Yes, sweet man, you are correct. You did get the right coffee. Except the part where the “decaf” designation is missing. Right company, right roast, right grind, right label, right fair trade lid. I should have warned you that coffee comes in two varieties: delicious and poisonous. Thank you for trying. Wish I’d checked the label.

Yes, oh whippersnapping college-aged foilist, you are correct. I am technically middle aged. And this is technically a fleche. Enjoy the speed and steel of a middle-aged woman. Now excuse me while I drink my Ensure.

Yes, little one, you are correct. It is fun to tickle Mommy when I crouch down to help your brother. That big ol’ patch of skin below my reaching-arm-raised shirt and my fashionably-low-riding jeans is tempting. I forgive you for grabbing, jiggling, zerberting, and tickling that patch of lower back. In public. A lot.

Yes, you are correct. Payback will be harsh.

And at your wedding.