Three kids come down to the kitchen and sit around the breakfast table. The mother asks the oldest boy what he’d like to eat. “I’ll have some fuckin’ French toast,” he says. The mother is outraged at his language, hits him, and sends him upstairs. She asks the middle child what he wants. “Well, I guess that leaves more fuckin’ French toast for me,” he says. She is livid, smacks him, and sends him away. Finally she asks the youngest son what he wants for breakfast. “I don’t know,” he says meekly, “but I definitely don’t want the fuckin’ French toast.”