Whenever we're on the road, I ask my oldest son to hand me the things I need from my purse.
"Could you get out my bank card?"
"Here, will you put this back in my wallet?"
"Could you find me my lipstick?"
"Oops. that's not it."
"This isn't lipstick?" he asked this morning.
"No, that's lipstick. It's just not the right color."
"I sure am Mama's purse boy when we're driving," he observed.
"It's true. I'm sorry," I said.
"I'm happy to do it," he replied and then he ventured, "....forrr seven dollars a week."