I run a tight ship around here. When I say “jump,” my kids say “in a minute.” So when I say it’s time for school, rest assured we’ll get there eventually. Here’s what that looked like yesterday (this could be literally any day).

The setting: the boys are playing knee hockey in the basement, the father is upstairs waiting for the slow march of time.

“Hey assholes, time for school.” -father of the year

“Goal!!!” -large child

“No that doesn’t count, he said it’s time to go!” -younger child

/arguing back and forth for several minutes

“The goal counts. Go get ready for school.” -me

/pouting and pure anger (goal still stands)

I took the youth to school (we weren’t late I’m pretty sure), went home and did some shit around the house, and then went to work and did some work. I got done at what is typically their bedtime, so there was a 50/50 chance they would still be awake when I got home. Guess what?

The setting: the boys are playing knee hockey in the basement, the father is eager to say goodnight to his beloved children.

“Hey assholes, time for bed.” -yours truly

I walk down stairs to see the end of the action.

“Goal!!!” -younger child

“No that doesn’t count, we didn’t do a faceoff!” -large child

“Looked good to me. Bedtime.” -me

“But we did a faceoff before.” -large child

“Let’s check with the ref. Nope, good goal. Bedtime.” -the ref

/pouting

/explaining they did the same exact shit in the morning

/bedtime

The 12 hour gap between my interactions with these two were bookended with arguments about whether their goals should count or not. Assholes. But hey, at least they can put the puck in the net.