Meatballs...

A few months ago, I cooked a batch of diet garlic meatballs that were probably as much garlic as meatball. Because neither the Missus or myself can be bothered to cook, the remainder of these are now getting used up, and there is a discussion on the best way to reheat a meatball. The Missus suggests frying them so I ask the following: 
'Do you believe you can fly?'

There is a pause.
'Do you mean "Do I believe I can fry?"' she counters, then starts humming the song with a similar title. 

I meant to crack a joke, but I got the words wrong. And she noticed. Do I argue the point and pretend that's what I actually said and she misheard? I decide not to.
'Yes. That is what I meant. I meant to make a joke but I got it wrong, then you took my flawed intentions and made them work in a much better way...' 
'And that's a perfect analogy for how this marriage works,' she replies, metaphorically patting me on the head.

She's probably not wrong. I may well be an idiot.