I can barely stand the irony of sternly talking to the boy for reading past lights out.
His mother and I both were that kid, always reading past lights out. I honestly believe I needed glasses so early in life purely because of all the hours reading by flashlight.
Son, if you read this some day, we both love that you want to read for a couple extra hours every night, but your sister keeps telling on you.
Please get better at hiding it.
Danger Monkey, age 10: “Please be quiet.”
Little Miss Thing, age 7: (loud singing)
DM: “Dad, I need to cast Mage Hand to put a magical hand over her mouth.”
Me: “Sorry, buddy. We’re not playing D&D. You’re stuck back there with your sister for the rest of this car ride. Can you maybe think of a better way to resolve this?”
DM: “Yes, but I’m not level 5 so I can’t cast fireball yet.”
LMT: “What…?”
Me: “What…?”
Me: “You are smart, and strong, and working hard in school, and that means you can do and be whatever you want when you grow up.”
Little Miss Thing, age 7: “I’m going to be a veterinarian!”
Me: “Oh, good!”
LMT: “I’ll feed all the animals and pet them for about… probably two hours. Then I’ll go home and play with my friends.”
Me: “That sounds nice. I think you’ll make a good Vet. But you know, sometimes the animals are sick and need medicine, or even surgery.”
LMT: “Why?”
Me: “They get sick or hurt just like people do sometimes. And they need a Veterinarian to help them get better.”
(long pause)
LMT: “I’ll pay someone else to do that part.”
Me: “Sounds good.”
Very Vocal Viking 