mad morning

It is my late day at work, which means it is the man's turn to wrangle the children together for school. Leif gets to ride along so I have a chance to shower without a hail of tiny fists on the door. The infink charged around with his head down and arms back like a speed skater, wailing "datdatdatdatdat!" and stopping to shoot at Gavin with both fists. Gavin went into death throes with his toothbrush jutting from his mouth. The cat had knocked over the food bucket and was spread out in it on her belly, scootching forward on her cat toes and snarking down nuggets. Despite all this, somehow, miraculously, everyone was be-shoed and be-backpacked with ten minutes to spare. So the man stood there watching the kids play "punch you in the balls" until it was time to go - then decided to sit down and fill out a 3-page permission form. "What's 'an effective form of discipline' for Gavin?" he asked, pen poised. I looked at the boy, rolling on the floor clutching his rooster bits while Leif stomped and clapped in delight. "Logical consequences."