Mr. Right and I passed the parenting baton in the driveway Sunday afternoon, which is not the way I like to think our lives go, but it kind of is right now, at least sometimes.
The kids were excited to take me inside and show off the gingerbread men and dinosaurs they'd made with Daddy while I was gone.
"Oh, they're beautiful!" I told them.
"And they taste really good!!!" said Mr. Pants.
"Ooo! Really? Can I try one?"
Two pairs of big serious eyes looked up at me (one from under a floppy wool hat - the day was our first coolish one and they were pretending it had snowed), "You have to ask Daddy."
"Really? You don't think I can just have one?"
"No," they remained solemnly sure and slightly horrified by my presumption, "you have to ask Daddy first."