My husband has been playing Metroid on a GameBoy for three straight hours--no exaggeration. I don't even think he's gotten out of the chair to pee.

Oh, he made a wonderful dinner first, but then he disappeared. The girls and I played together, I got them in their jammies, and I put them to bed (Allie did kiss Daddy goodnight--he paused the game for that).

He's going to develop carpal tunnel, I know it.

Allie, by the way, is learning to read. Tonight we read, "Harry, the Dirty Dog." Allie read as many as four words in a row. She's not going to be the most advanced kid in kindergarten, but she should be able to hold her own.

In comparison, there's a boy in her tumbling class who is so backwards in behavior. He has to be at least 4 or 4 1/2. But he starts to cry when he doesn't get to sit on the red stripe on the floor. He won't stretch unless he's pretty much in his dad's lap.

And his father futilely warns, "We're going to leave, Danny (name changed to protect the problem child)," when you can tell they've never left anything due to his behavior.

My children are very imperfect, but at least they're independent children who can do things on their own and demand to do things on their own. We're lucky. At least we're lucky so far!