FOUR??

Kayleigh has never been subtle about coming into my room at night when she's had a nightmare. This morning it went something like this:

BOOM! [sound of Kayleigh bursting through the door like Kramer]

Dad: (sitting bolt upright, heart racing) WHAT! Penguins! Who's on fire? Call the Air Force!

K: I had a bad dream.

Dad: (remembering what planet he's on) I'm sorry you had a bad dream, sweetie. Can you NOT come bursting into my room like some crazed ROOM-BURSTER?

K: Sorry.

Dad: In the future, can you please knock?

K: OK (goes out into the hallway, closes door)

[knock knock]

Dad: (at this point, barely stifling a laugh) Come in.

K: I had a bad dream.

Dad: Have you gone to the bathroom?

K: No.

Dad: Go use my potty. I'll bet you have to go.

K: I don't have to go.

Dad: I'll bet you do. Go try.

[sound of Kayleigh lifting the toilet lid and sitting down, followed by a tinkly, watery sound for about thirty seconds]

Dad: So, remember when I said you should go potty before I tucked you in? And you said you didn't have to go?

K: Yes.

Dad: What are you going to do next time?

K: Go potty.

Dad: Good. Gimme hugs and get back to bed, OK?

K: OK.

[enter Tyler]

T: What's going on?

Dad: Hi Tyler. Join us. We're having a convention for Kayleigh's trip to the bathroom.

T: I'm going back to bed.

Dad: Thanks for letting me know. Carry on.

[exit both kids to their respective rooms]

Dad: (looking at bedside clock) FOUR?? Four in the bloody morning?

I love my children. I love my children. I love my children. I love my children...