As I mentioned on Friday, the kids really ran me ragged last week. Click here if you don’t remember.

What made matters worse was a nagging suspicion that the problems were my fault, that my wife would have been handling things better, and the kids would have been the little fun-loving angels that the policemen had seen. If you’re curious about how the police fit in to this, you really should click here to read the other tale.

Yes, we had a lot of fun, but we also had a lot of fights.

Saturday, my wife managed to drag herself out to the couch. We propped her foot up with loads of pillows so that it was as elevated as possible, and then sat down to do some regular old-fashioned socializing with Papou (my father-in-law). The kids flitted uncertainly about, not sure exactly where they fit in.

Finally, my youngest turned to momma.

“Momma,” he said. “Do you need a nap?”

“Excuse me?” she said, eyebrows raising.

“You look like you’re feeling bad,” he said. “Do you need a nap?”

“That is not very nice,” she said.

“No, no, no!” he said. “It’s not that I want to play with daddy. I just thought you might need a nap.” He gestured dramatically with his hands. “That’s all.”

Unfortunately, he couldn’t quite keep the smile off his face. I could tell, because I was having the same problem.