When you have one child you are asked to play. When you have two children you are asked to mediate property disputes. Earlier today the property in dispute was none other than yours truly. I was sitting on the couch, minding my own business, when Beth yells, “DADDY!” and proceeds to leap into my lap. Not to be out done, Adam dives at me like a Japanese fighter plane, with seemingly complete disregard for his own well being… yelling “DADDY” much like his Japanese counterpart might yell, “BANZAI!” The competition continued until I said, “I think someone peeled off my scab.” (This being the result of a tragic Pergo incident two days prior.) Beth yelled, “Oh gross, is it bleeding?” then took off, not waiting for an answer.

Once again I had peace… paid for with an inch long scab, taken from my knee.

It was worth every platelet.

I don’t need permission from my wife to spend five dollars, but for some reason I felt compelled to tell her anyway.

“John, you don’t need my permission to spend five dollars,” she replies.

“I know, I thought I would extend you the courtesy of asking anyway.”

“Who are you and what have you done with my husband?”

“We’ve taken him someplace you’ll never find him. Unless you deliver five, unmarked one dollar bills to us by two o’clock this afternoon you’ll never see him again.”

“Promises, promises…”