I was putting Zeb (4 years now) to bed the other night. I give him a hug and a kiss and then the following conversation started:
- Zeb: Daddy, you have to shave. You have a rough skin.
- Me: No…. I am saving for a beard.
- Zeb: Why ?
- Me: You know how all kings have a beard ?
- Zeb: Yes, but why do you want to be a king ?
- Me: So I will be king of our house and I can decide over all of you.
- Zeb: OK, daddy, you can be king.
- Me: You think it’s OK ??!!
- Zeb: Yes, because I will be the Prime Minister then. Kings these days don’t really decide anything anymore.