If somebody, unprovoked, honked at you today, that's maddening.

If somebody gave you a dirty look today, you have my sympathy.

If somebody called you a mean name today, that is frustrating.

But unless you have spent an afternoon being taunted by your children, being told over and over - 

"William Shakespeare is a better writer than you! He's a way better writer than you are, Daddy!"

- then your day of being emotionally assaulted pales in comparison to mine, as the children sank the hooks in deep.

"Of course he's a better writer,"
I say.
"I'm just getting going; he has a 500-year head start and a British accents! But I'll tell you what, Mr. Shakespeare didn't have a Facebook account and I do. Plus, he's dead and I'm not. So who's the one gaining ground in this scenario?!"

My deft oratory silences them for three bars and a half note. Then, the little Salieris find another wound to gouge:

"Daddy, The Rock has way bigger muscles than you, and he's way stronger, ha ha ha ha!"

"Well...I'm taller than both of you!"
I crack back, unable to think any swifter on my feet.

It's tough being a Dad these days. I protesteth for increased respect. In solidarity with William, who is dead, I will not exercise today. 

And as for you, Rock...you may have bigger muscles, but I have, umm...I have...let's see...I have an unbelievable skill for building LEGO sculptures that defy all laws of physics, engineering, and common sense. So there. Gotcha on that one, sucka. Thou are pigeon-liver’d and lack gall. Made that one up myself.*

Happy Friday, all.

*i did not

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