Idiot

I have not given Phoebe as many cornflakes as she would like for breakfast this morning, and am immediately (and loudly) dubbed an idiot. I am about to respond with a mild request that she not be rude, when Emily, in rhetorical mode, leaps to my defence.

"An idiot? Some idiot! An idiot that gets you breakfast! An idiot that takes you to school! An idiot that cooks you lunch! An idiot that washes your hair! An idiot that wipes your bottom [sadly, this is true]."

I'm quite grateful, but I can't help feeling that this vociferousness on my behalf is a way Emily has discovered of repeatedly calling me an idiot while seeming to do the opposite.