I was sitting at the kitchen counter one day. Myles comes and stands next to me, looks up and says, “So Dad, the king gets to do whatever he wants, right?” I didn’t know where this was going but I played along and said, “What do you mean, Myles?”  “Well, like he can leave his clothes around and not have to pick them up.” So I said, “Yeah, I guess you’re right Myles.” (Virginia often told Myles that Daddy was “king of the house.”). “Good,” Myles said … “I’m the king too.”