There are times when your children suddenly become smarter than you. There’s no warning, no alarms, just blam, kid puts you in your place.

Tonight was one of those times. In of all places, on the toilet. C was doing his business, M had just finished. Neither of them should be out of bed. We’re an hour past bedtime, we’ve been running around, yelling and being generally crazy.

So, on my third trip up to be “angry dad,” I find them in queue in the bathroom. M finishes, C takes position. Daddy says “why are you still up and running around? Didn’t I tell you to stay in bed?”

“Yes,” is the chorus.

“Then why are you out of bed even when I told you not to?” I ask.

“Why did you used to climb the rocks at Grammy’s house, dad? Did Grampy used to say ‘good job?'”

Blam.