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.


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