You know you’ve done a fine job of parenting and really helped your kids capture the true meaning of Christmas when you hear them singing at the top of their lungs:
“Joy to the world that Barney’s dead, we barbecued his head. Don’t worry about the body, we flushed it down the potty, round and round it goes, round and round it goes. Joy to the world that Barney’s dead!”
I guess I’m having a hard time grasping the idea, the concrete reality, that I’m the head of a family of six.
Conversation on the phone earlier today:
Amanda: “I’m going to go to target today.”
Me: “Are you going to take all three of them.”
Amanda: “No, I’m taking all four of them.”
Me: “That’s what I meant, all four of you are going.”
Amanda: “No five of us are going.”
Me: (stumped silence, adding in my head)
Amanda: “Jason, we have four kids, there’s five of us.”
Maybe it’s just because I’m working on four hours of sleep.