I feel compelling to say that we were joking. Here it goes:
"Should we get Tegan and make her a bottle?"
"Yes," Mark says. We are tired and want to go to bed.
I go into the kitchen and start running water. "I'll make it. Do you want to feed her or should I?"
Mark says, "Oh, you'll make the food but you don't want to feed the children?"
"Yes," I say. "That's right."
"Because then you'd have to touch them," he continues.
"Tell you what," I say. "When Tegan turns 9 months old, then we'll be even and we can start sharing parenting responsibilities again."
"Oh," Mark says, "This is about you having to carry the baby?"
"Yes," I say, mixing up the bottle. "I spent 9 months making her. Now you can nurture her for 9 months and then we'll be even. At her 9 month birthday we'll be back at ground zero."
I screw the top on the bottle.
Mark heads out of the kitchen to go get Tegan. "I'm glad our marriage is grounded on the foundation of making sure we are even."