There are things you expect as a parent: preparing meals, changing diapers, sharing jokes, helping with homework, and eventually driving lessons and suchlike. Then... there are the things that you didn't expect.
Take last night, for example.
I did not, when I made the announcement that it was bath time, expect to be met with an armed insurrection that rapidly exploded into house-wide rampage of Total Nerf War. I did not expect to be tossing enemy ammunition out onto the floor in order to lure Secondborn out of hiding. I did not expect him to use the laundry hamper as a mobile shield while he scooted out from behind the table to get the ammunition. I did not expect to find us covering each other with empty Nerf guns while we gathered up our ammunition, and then while we each retreated from the room to reload.
I especially did not expect Secondborn to take a running slide between my legs so he could shoot me in the butt.
Still, you go to war with the children you have, not the children you wish you had; and no plan survives first contact with your children.
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