Me: “On a mission.”
Troy: “Dada! I can see from this picture that you’re in some kind of museum.”
Me: “That’s not a museum. It’s an airplane hanger. You can’t see it in the picture, but we’d just caught the bad guy, and I’m actually standing on his neck, waiting for the FBI to arrive and take him away.”
Troy [skeptically]: “You’d just caught a bad guy…at a museum?”
Me: “I told you that it’s not a museum. We were at a small airport outside of town pretending to do a chemical weapons buy. The bad guy got news that we were agents, and our cover was blown. He tried to take off in his private jet, but I used a car to ram the landing gear and disable the plane. After it skidded to a halt on the runway, I rushed on board and ripped the bad guy off the plane and threw him out of the door.”
Troy: “Uh huh, and what was mama doing?”
Me: “Covering me.”
Troy: “I still think you went to the museum.”
Me: “Well, we didn’t.”
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