Yesterday we were within 7 blocks of our house when Iggy said, “Pull over. I need another water bottle.”

I could see the crest of the hill where our street hits the larger artery we were riding on. Just one week or two earlier, Iggy had told me “You can’t have a water bottle. We’re too close to home.” I can’t remember whether I got my bottle that day or not.

So yesterday, before I pulled over, I couldn’t resist saying, “You’d yell at me if I did that.” Iggy agreed, so I didn’t rub in my point.

“You’d yell at me if I did that” is our shorthand for a long, whining argument. It would be better if I could magnanimously rise above the occasion and make no comment at all about his contradictory behavior. I like to think I can demonstrate more mature behavior.

By the way, we had a nice bike ride in Wellesley, a good chunk of it along the Crosstown Trail and Brook Path.

But when I feel the urge to engage in “Nyah, nyah, I told you so” behavior, sometimes I can short-circuit it with “You’d yell at me if I did that.”