Houseguests

My parents are here. My life is a Seinfeld episode without the laugh track. This morning I overheard the following conversation between Marilyn and Gerry:

"Where's the All Bran?"
"I finished the All Bran."
"I just bought a new box."
"So it's there."
"Where?"
"Wherever you put it."
"I don't see it."
"It has to be there."
"Someone must have taken it."
"No one took it."
"So where is it?"
"How should I know?"
"It's not here."
"Did you look in the--"
"Yes."
"What about the--"
"It's not in this kitchen."
"It's wherever you put it."
"Could I have left it in the car?"
"You could have left it in the car."
"Should I look in the car?"
"Look in the car."
Minutes later.
"It was in the car."

Fast forward to this afternoon. My father was getting ready to make his mid-afternoon snack, which comes just after his post-lunch snack, but before his pre-dinner snack. I asked him if he could wait five minutes so that I could empty the dishwasher before he occupied the kitchen. Hunger may have affected his hearing, because he ignored me and proceeded to take out a cutting board and slice a tomato on the counter directly over the dishwasher. He body blocked the dishwasher, so I had to move him aside. I positioned his elbow upwards and ducked under it to retrieve the first items. The I went back and forth as I made trips from the dishwasher to the glasses cabinet back to the dishwasher to the silverware drawer back to the dishwasher to the plate rack, etc., moving him out of the way each time. Then I said, "When you're finished eating, can you put your dishes in the dishwasher?"

He said, "Did you empty it?"