Les Miserables: Master (s) of the House

So this week, Jeff had to leave town for a GM convention for several days. The evening before he left, he called the boys over, telling him he had to have a very important talk with them.

"Oh, no," I rolled my eyes -- I'm very big into eye-rolling; I think by now the strongest muscles in my body are ocular -- "not the 'Man of the House' talk."

Jeff is always amazed by my powers to predict the present: "How did you know?" A large part of prediction is based on predictability, let's let it go at that.

To be fair, since they were born only seven minutes apart, we couldn't really choose the oldest, so we decided they would take turns. They weren't really too excited about their new title, as Jeff explained to them their temporary new responsibilities helping Mommy out.

From the sidelines, I called out, "Remember boys, with great power..."

"Comes great responsibility!" they responded in unison. It's a Spider-Man thing. But still, no great enthusiasm for this great new honor, until... Jeff told them that the Man of the House gets to stay up later than the other children. With this carrot, I was promised children who would make their beds every morning, clean up after themselves, help fold laundry, take out garbage, and treat each other with nothing but the utmost love and respect. What I got was two boys who alternately threatened to send the other to bed eleventeen hours early, and the need to explain to every neighbor and Jehovah's witness that came within 300 yards of our house why my five year old son was telling them he is the Man of the House.

Next business trip, I think it's only fair that Mao gets a turn as Mistress of the House. And when that day comes, I pray that I'll be the one going on a business trip.