SO Not My Fault

How Lola starts her day with a small, secret smile (no, not what you're thinking!)
Stuffs Bart and Gertie into their boots and coats and whatnots and whizzles and shoves them out the door after Poptart. Scoops up Beau and heads back in for a peaceful morning. Well, ok, to wait for the babysitter and frantically prepare for a conference, but I enjoy that.
Poptart reappears.
"Did you put Beau down for a nap in my car yesterday?"
"Nope. Wasn't home before you, remember?"
"Oh. Did you get anything out of my car, then?"
"Nope. Haven't driven it in days. Have I mentioned that it's smelly?"
"That's my bike helmet. So you haven't been in my car?"
"Nope."
"Well, someone left the door open or something."
"Wasn't me."
"The battery is dead."
"Ah." I could see that coming, actually. Poptart's battery dies if you look at it funny. And I do mean his battery. Geez, your mind!
"I need you to help me jump it." (You really have to imagine the snarliest, grumpiest possible tone you can imaginecoming from someone referred to as "Poptart.")

It was the most fun I've ever had jumping a car. Because honestly, that sort of thing usually is my fault. And this wasn't. And he knew it.