Insert Gwen Stefani music.

HS has a heavy-duty matchbox police truck. When you press a lever lights flash, a policeman pops up from inside, and the siren sounds. It also "drives" itself forward. Today that toy had a slight malfunction.

DH opens it up. Fiddle. Fiddle. Fiddle. Fiddle. You get the idea. This went on for a good half hour. I probably heard the siren....Oh, 60 times in this half hour?! Try as he might, DH could not figure out how to put the top back on it so the lever responded appropriately, or the little policeman would refuse to pop up, or both.

Me: Want me to take a look at it?

DH: Rolls eyes.

Me: Here. Let me try.

DH (Snotty and condescending): Do you even know what I'm doing here?

Me (pissed off and seething): Give it to me!

Where in 3 minutes I managed to get the pop-up police guy in there correctly, and figured out how to get the top on so the on lever connected. All the while making snotty passive aggressive comments directed at my DH about "How I must not know anything because I'm a girl."

While I did let him screw the top back on, he had to listen to me ask him a couple of times "Are you sure you know what you're doing?"