I was slow getting out of bed this morning. When I finally did grumble into the kitchen, my youngest greeted me by shouting “I’m the Daddy!”
For those not keeping track, he’s two years old.
“You’re the daddy?” I asked, “then who am I?”
He thought about it for a second and then announced “you’re a kid!”
“Great,” I said. “Fix me some breakfast, daddy.”
He looked over at my distracted wife. “Mommy’ll do it!”
Great, I thought, that’ll work too.
Unfortunately, it didn’t.