Today he hugged Sam, turned to me and said “Sam is taller than me.”

Rob has all three kids at the grocery store. He’s known for this: everyone at the Co-op and in fact everyone in town gives him big props for his willingness to do something most parents (let alone dads) will not. He just straps them all into a giant cart and ignores them, if you believe what he says. And I do notice that they don’t give him as much crap as they do me: they put coats on, instead of demanding not to wear them in the car; they (you can really read Lily for “they” here) don’t take three pair of boots and a bag of baby doll clothing…

I have started to say “no” more in the interests of achieving something like this myself. Usually I don’t say no unless there’s a reason to, but I think there are more reasons than I’d realized, and my convenience and sanity are valid. Especially whe I am cooking, which they seem to see as the perfect opportunity for me to provide them with milk, chocolate milk, water, tea, (all of those things, not just one), put batteries in things, find things they are missing and go upstairs with them to get another pair of socks. No, I tell you, no. Especially no cheese. It will spoil your dinner.