Several years ago, when my boys were younger, I took them to one of the national haircut chains. We walked in and I said, “We would like three haircuts and a beard trim.” The receptionist asked our names.
“Joel, Glenn, and Marvin.”
“And which one gets the beard trim?”
“And you are . . .?”
Afterward I remarked to the boys how unobservant she was not to know it was me who needed a beard trim.
“Dad,” the boys pointed out, “She wanted to know the name of the one who got the beard trim.”
You never feel stupider than when you thought you had caught someone else being stupid and you are the stupid one.