Ever since I could sit in a chair, I’ve been tilting. I don’t know why, but I find balancing on two chair legs infinitely preferable to sitting squarely on four. Unfortunately, my lovely wife isn’t a big fan of tilting and has banned the practice. She has two reasons, one good (it breaks chairs) and one silly (it’s dangerous).

The boys, of course, are on my side of this particular debate, and tilt their chairs whenever they think their mom isn’t looking.

The other day, it was just the the boys and me at dinner, and I noticed that they were both tilting.

“Come on, guys,” I said. “You know your mom doesn’t like tilting.”

They looked around the kitchen. “She’s not here,” my oldest said.

“Really?” I said. “Is that what you’re going with?”

“You’re tilting,” his little brother pointed out.

“Yeah, but I’m allowed.”

They looked at each other, then at me.

“Okay,” I corrected myself. “Let’s say I won’t get in trouble.”

They laughed. “Sure you won’t.”

“Okay,” I said, “then how about this. I’m the only adult at this table and I say it’s okay for me but not for you.”

“That’s not fair!”

“No,” I agreed. “No, it’s not. Also, I hereby decree that you have to eat your broccoli and I do not.”

“Oh no you don’t!” my youngest said, putting the front legs of his chair back on the floor. “You’re eating that broccoli.”

“Yeah!” His brother brought his own chair back down to the floor with a bang. “Every last bite!”