Bad guys, backed-up septic systems and bandannas

One of the unique aspects of a rural school is its septic system.
Until six years ago I had seldom, if ever, considered a septic system. It was then that we moved into a 100 year old house on the outskirts of a serviced town that I was introduced to a life lived on a well and a septic system. Quite nice, really. Especially in light of the water bills that we now pay...
The cost of pumping the septic tank every two years or so is really quite minimal in comparison to the astronomical service fees levied by our municipality. Nevertheless, our small town's taxes and aqua costs are not the subject of this post. Dave's school is; or, rather, Dave's school's septic system will serve as a preamble to the reason for this post - which is really the necessity for adult contact in the life of a stay-at-home mom.
On Sunday night, when I was feeling a little overwhelmed at the end of a weekend, the phone rang. It was Dave's principal calling to tell him that the school's septic system had backed up and school would be cancelled the next day. Dave even had permission from the director of education herself to stay home the next day ... unless he wanted to report to his malodorous place of work.
Of course, before Dave actually got off the phone all I heard and saw was his end of the conversation which was entirely comprised of several OKs plus an ever-widening grin. When he turned to me and told me the news that our weekend had just been lengthened, I rejoiced with a short prayer, "Oh, dear Jesus, thank you for whoever forgot to pump the septic tank! Bless them abundantly."
So, the next day found me, Dave and the three youngest at home for the day. Joseph was the most confused as Jacob and Hannah had left for school and Daddy was still in his at-home clothes.
Joe: "When are you leaving?"
Ben: "Hey! Dad forgot to go to work."
(Isaac: "Milk.")
It is very rare that Dave ever gets to experience my Monday to Friday life: a little like a hermit amongst Lilliputians. It was at lunch that the details of my weekday life became most evident. I was eating lunch at the table with Joseph and Benjamin while Dave was in the kitchen listening to our conversation.
Now, before I document our dialogue, I should tell you that Joe and Ben have a preoccupation (read: obsession) with bad guys, criminals and police. Whence this comes, I know not. They are constantly chasing each other while wearing bandannas wrapped around their mouths (and sometimes their eyes as well), throwing eachother to the ground and attempting to tie one another's hands behind their backs. (I swear that all they watch on TV is Franklin and the Berenstain Bears.) Joseph also wears part of a bumblebee costume which, when I asked, he told me was very effective in scaring bad guys. They constantly warn me that certain parts of our house are excessively dangerous and that only small teddy bears and baby jaguars can approach these rooms. Anyway, this all serves as background to the following conversation.
Joe: "I am going to kill the criminal!!"
Me: "I don't think that you should kill anyone, Joe."
Joe: "But he's a bad guy!"
Me (cognisant of venturing into moral philosophy.): "Yes, but we shouldn't kill people just because they are bad."
Ben: "But they are bad so we must kill them."
Me: "Perhaps we should just put them in jail? Maybe you could do that instead of always killing people everyday?"
This reasoning went on for a while until Dave chimed in.
"Elena, is this what you talk about at lunch every day?"
Me: "Umm, pretty much."
Dave: "Oh."
Me (moral philosophy again?): "Do you understand now why it's so important that you call home at lunch?"
Dave (aware that his status as a 'bad guy' hinges on the appropriate answer.): "Ummm, yeah."
Thank God for backed-up septic systems.