Jethro and Jackson were downstairs working on wooden toys for the upcoming Christmas. Zuma had decided to curl up under the boat for a nap since Tony was going out to run errands. The stairs creaked as Tony started down.

"Jethro, what is this?"

From where he sat working on wooden plane, Jethro squinted at the paper Tony was waving from the basement stairs. "That's the grocery list. You said you'd pick them up on the way home from the dry cleaner's if I made a list."

With an exasperated sigh, Tony sat down on the stairs. "This is not a grocery list."

"Of course it is." Jethro picked up fine sandpaper and applied it gently to the wing.

"Jethro, it says coffee, food, potatoes, meat, soap." Tony said in exasperation.

"Well, yeah. That's what we need."

Tony counted to ten. "Luckily I know what coffee you drink. Don't you think the list is a bit generic? I mean food, that's what is at the grocery store."

"Food for Zuma."

"Dog food? From the grocery store?"

"Yeah." Jethro said slowly. "Can't really pick it up at the gas station."

"Zuma does not eat dog food from the grocery store."

"Why not? He doesn't eat people food."

"I buy his food at the pet store. It's much better for him and has the vitamins and nutrients he needs."

"Humph. Guess you can cross that off then. Better stop at the pet store."

"Alright." Tony pulled out a pen and placed the tablet on his knee to write. "You wrote potatoes."

"Right. Round things you eat with meat."

Jackson coughed to cover his snicker as Tony sighed again. "Do we need baking potatoes, red potatoes, white potatoes, Russet?"

"What's the difference? Just potatoes."

"I use different potatoes in different dishes because… never mind, I'll check." Tony just moved on. "Meat?"

"Yup."

"What kind?"

"Normal kind. You know, steak?"

"Do you want bacon or ham for breakfasts? Some hamburger, pork chops?"

"Sounds good." Unsatisfied with the edge, Jethro picked up a file.

"Son, those pork chops you made with peaches the other week were mighty good. So was that pot roast. Do you make chicken pot pie?"

Dutifully, Tony added chicken, pork chops and roast. "You mean the kind with a crust and vegetables or the kind with the wide noodle type." Seeing the light his father-in-law's eyes, he decided to grab to chickens. "Alright, Jethro. Soap? Do we need laundry detergent, dish liquid, bar soap?"

"Bar soap for the upstairs shower. I used the last on my hair this morning."

"You washed your hair with bar soap."

"Well, yeah. It was dirty."

"Jethro, I put a bottle of shampoo in there."

"You mean that frou-frou stuff?"

"Frou-frou stuff?"

Jackson chortled and hurriedly bowed head over the caboose he was working on. Sometimes he realized exactly why Leroy had so many ex-wives.

"Are you calling the shampoo I use on my hair frou-frou stuff?"

The warning system finally engaged. Jackson could almost see the little red lights and warning bells sort of like a train crossing. Jethro's hands stilled and Jackson watched him set the plane down carefully. He could almost see the wheels turning frantically in his son's mind.

"It smells good on your hair but I'm used to using soap. Besides when I use yours, I can't tell if it's you or me wearing it. Like to lay my head on your pillow and smell your scent."

"Why didn't you say something sooner? It comes in different scents. I'll stop by and pick you up something different. I better check the laundry supplies before I go." Tony smiled happily before heading back upstairs, calling good-bye as he went.

"And crisis averted." Jackson burst out laughing.

"Lot of help you were," Jethro grumbled.

"I'm not married." Jackson smirked.