Dawn's POV
"First, we wash our hands."
I stopped halfway through pulling a pot out of the cabinet.
Slowly, I turned toward my thirteen-year-old son.
Evan stood at the kitchen sink, pushing up his sleeves with the seriousness of a surgeon preparing for open-heart surgery.
I blinked.
"Excuse me?"
He looked at me.
"Mom. We have to wash our hands before cooking."
I stared.
Then I placed a hand against my chest.
"Well, I'll be damned."
"Mom!"
"What? I'm just shocked!"
He frowned.
"Why?"
"Because for thirteen years, I've been reminding you to wash your hands before eating.
"After using the bathroom, after touching the dog, and approximately every other activity known to mankind."
Chelsea snorted from the kitchen island.
I continued.
"And now, suddenly, you're standing in my k
