Daughter 1: Your blog doesn't have an RSS feed; I cant' follow you.

Me: You'll have to talk to my technical manager, which was you.  You helped me set it up.  If it's not there, it's your fault.

Daughter 1: I set you up on blogger.com because it is easy for you to manage.  You are supposed to look after that yourself.

Me: Well, you didn't tell me that.  How am I supposed to know?

Daughter 1: You micro-manage me making the mashed potatoes for Thanksgiving.  You had to know that this was stuff you would need to control yourself.

Somehow, perhaps because it is late and I just started a new job, this strikes me as hilariously funny.  I laugh so hard that I squeek and tears run down my face.  My daughter shakes her head at me and tells me I really need to go to bed.