I don’t know how it works at your house, but at mine, the kids will tell you I’m the boss.
Yes, my husband Robert and I function as a partnership. We are a duo. We are a team.
But we all know who is running the show.
When my kids want an extra piece of Halloween candy, or to go to the movies with a friend, or to put off cleaning their rooms for another day, everyone knows you ask me. Oh, you *could* ask dad, but we all know what he is going to say.
All together now…
Cue to last Friday night.
I was upstairs doing laundry and Lucy, in a fit of crabby preteen realness, was in the den trying to boss everyone around. As bedtime approached, she marched upstairs to make an appeal to me to stay up an extra 30 minutes to watch a little What Not to Wear.
Being no fool, she not only invited me to watch with her since we “hadn’t had a lot of time together lately” [Note–we’ve been together practically non-stop], she even offered to fold a few washcloths. She knows her audience. I had to admit she made a compelling case. As I was smiling and nodding and obviously about to render my verdict in her favor, my husband walked in. He reminded me that she had been up late the night before trick-or-treating and her personality was definitely suffering as a result.
They both looked at me with anticipation. How would I rule? I mulled it over for a few seconds and then, with Solomon like wisdom, I rendered my verdict.
“Sorry, honey. You need to get to bed on time tonight. You do seem a little bit tired. We’ll watch Stacy and Clinton together tomorrow.”
She knew she had been *this* close to an extra 30 minutes, and it had slipped through her fingers at the last minute. We said our good-nights, and Lucy stomped into her room, brushed her teeth, and went to sleep.
Or so we thought.
Robert had stayed in the laundry room to help finish up the laundry. As we were talking and folding sheets, a note came gliding under the door.
You better believe Robert slept with one eye open that night.