Part of our routine each night is to read stories before bedtime. We get the kids all ready for bed and then sit on the couch and read a couple stories while they drink their milk and eat some goldfish crackers.

Last night, C made it to the couch first. I sat down and handed him his milk. He looked over at me and said "I love you daddy."

Surprised, I smiled. "Well, I love you, too."

Then he said "Poke!" and reached over to poke me in the belly. Naturally, I poked him back.

J arrived with the books as we were poking each other: "Poke!", "Poke!", "Poke!", "Poke!"

With a motherly "Okay, settle down", she sat between us. That effectively stopped the poking. Normally, J and I both read, but I’ve had a terrible cough for about a week now, so J is doing the reading.

She opened the book to start. N, who was sitting in my lap, reached over to poke her. "Poke!" [The proud daddy in me feels compelled to point out that this was the first time he had ever said "poke"]

I laughed while J reacted: "He said Poke! He said Poke!".

On the other side of her, C caught on quickly. He gave her a poke. "Poke!"

Of course, I did the same. "Poke!" She was, after all, sitting between us – surrounded by pokers, as it were. To recap the next several minutes:

"Poke!"
"Hey!"
"Poke!"
"Stop!"
"Poke!", "Poke!"
"I said – "
"Poke!", "Poke!", "Poke!"
"It’s time to -"
"Poke!"

… you get the idea.

I love poker night!