I sit in the darkness and say the Law

Tomorrow afternoon, my wife is leaving me. Granted, in theory it's only temporary - she's visiting a friend in Manhattan for the weekend - but realistically I can't be certain that she'll ever return. As the Bible says, how can you keep them on the farm once they've seen the big city? The fact that we don't live on a farm is irrelevant: it's what the Bible says, and you don't fuck with the Bible.

Subsequently, I've determined that much as Mike Brady had to figure out how to make due with his three youngsters after wife #1 did whatever wife #1 did to remove herself from the picture, I need to start making plans for post-wife life. It's going to be something of an adjustment for all who remain in Castle TwoBusy, but I have little doubt that with some teamwork, a few laughs and the common understand that my word is now law, this will be a delightful time for the fruits of my (and, going forward, only my) loins.

I shall be the Sayer of the Law.

1. Not to go on all-fours. That is the Law.
My children are bipedal. You know what? I'm grateful for it. Infancy sucked the big one. Not to go on all-fours means you don't need to be carried. Need to go potty? It's at the top of the stairs. Need more milk? Get your ass to the fridge. You got feets. Use 'em.

2. Not to eat Fish or Flesh. That is the Law.
This probably calls for clarification. First off: fish are out. Done. I hate fish, I hate the smell of fish, I hate the smell of people who eat fish. When TheWife makes tuna, the house reeks of it for hours. My daughters walk around with tuna breath. I hate having daughters who have tuna breath. Not to eat fish: that is the Law. And flesh? Cannibalism is frowned on in the house of TwoBusy. Unless there's a big storm and we run out of chicken nuggets, in which case all bets are off. Although I'm betting at that point you'll be glad to have two feet to run away on, right kids? See: the Law works for you.

3. Not to chase other Men. That is the Law.
You know what happens when you chase each other? Someone gets hurt. Which means crying. Tears. Snot. Bruising. And I have to get up off my ass to deal with the ramifications. Unacceptable.

4. His is the House of Pain.
On the other hand, if you want to jump around... by all means: feel free. Tire yourselves out. This will be a home of early bedtimes, children. Your exhaustion is welcome.

5. His is the Hand that makes. His is the Hand that wounds. His is the Hand that heals.
Okay, so this one sounds a little fucked up even to me. I'm not into that corporal punishment thing... however, I'm willing to consider caning if it helps to dissuade you from whining. I'm looking at you, Butterfly. I don't care if you're only three: that is the Law.

6. His is the lightning flash. His is the deep, salt sea.
Damn straight it is. No lights go on in this house unless I say they go on. No one takes a bath until I declare them stinky enough to justify it. You will be stinky little kids living in darkness.

7. His are the stars in the sky.
Every night, we will go outside. Unless it's raining, in which case we'll stay in and watch Backyardigans. Otherwise, though, we'll go outside after dinner every night (no fish, no humans: refer to Law #2 for clarification) and look at the stars. I'll say: The kings of the past are up there, little ones, watching over us. And you'll say, "Really?" And I'll say: Yes. So whenever you feel alone, just remember that those kings will always be there to guide you, and so will I. And then you'll say: we love you, Mufasa. And then I will kick your stinky asses back into the dark house.

8. Evil are the punishments of those who break the Law.
We have high cabinets. I am not afraid to put toys on top of them and tell you that Santa came by last night and took your toys away because you broke the Law. And then you will cry, because you are tired from jumping around and all your toys are gone and you can't remember what tuna tastes like. But that is the price you pay for breaking the Law, unless you do it with style. In which case: cool.

9. None escape.
I will dig moats. Install razor wire. Hide your taggies and tell you they'll miss you forever if you try to leave. In time, you will understand that I do this out of love. In time, you will say: we have always lived in the castle.

Oh, children. I have such wonders to show you. Kiss your mother goodbye in the morning, and let the new day begin.