My two sons, four and six, like to wake up early. And by early, I mean they wake up at hours that I haven’t experienced since I was in college, and even then I only saw them through the bottom of a bottle. It’s not unheard of for them to wake up at 2:15 AM and loudly begin having Maximum Fun before storming into my room to demand that I allow them to go outside to play. This is what is known in parenting circles as bullshit. After a brief showdown during which I may or may not threaten to have Santa’s hands and feet cut off, my boys will settle down for upwards of thirty minutes before starting the process all over again. I could club retarded baby seals for a living and still make Santa’s Nice List just based on the fact that I haven’t once put my sons in leg irons (although I have frequently considered it). Continue reading