The boys just kicked a ball in the living room, as they have been told repeatedly not to do. It knocked over and broke a lamp. I heard the crash and came running in to find two sheepish boys picking up the lamp. (Thankfully the lightbulb wasn't shattered.) When I realized it was broken, I told them they would be paying for a new one since they knew they were not supposed to kick balls in the house (Cue Brady Bunch, "Mom always said, 'Don't play ball in the house!' ")

This led to immediate break downs and screams/tears at the unfairness of it all. Then they turned on each other:

{screaming}
E: You were the one who suggested it and you knew we weren't supposed to and I forgot!

D: Then I'm going to call you Mr. Bad Memory
 (**editors note: this is the line that prompted me to start transcribing this exchange for you, dear blog readers)

E: Then I will call you poop face.

D: Then I will call you stinky head.

E: I DON'T CARE!

{break in dialogue to focus on wailing and screaming}

E: You're the one who kicked the ball!

D: Well you're the one who was supposed to catch it!

E: Well you're the one who kicked it and you knew we shouldn't kick it!

{calming down}

E: How many dollars do you have?

D: I only have 11.

E: Well I have 29...that's 40 all together...maybe 41 if we count all our coins.
{end scene}

Does that count as a summer math exercise?