The boys that live in my house are Indiana Jones, whip crack, fast and accurate when it come to rattling off sports team stats, various imaginary character card game attack and defence points and always seem to be 1 minute early to attend the "cookies out of the oven" event in the kitchen. But when it comes to...oh I dunno...insert in here anything that has to do with household help, finding something that is not actually sitting in their hands or recognizing that the a sink drain full of wet pasta noodles, half a soggy meatballs and the crust from your garlic bread does NOT mean you are done cleaning up the kitchen, the blank stares that greet my raised eyebrow and critical gaze convince me that zombies ARE real and the Walking Dead might just be a documentary. Bits of things that would help them each day fall off them like decaying fingers. Pack my lunch--plop. Tell mom about school event and note that needs to be signed--plop. Homework--plop. Feed dogs --pl