On the weekend, I’m usually the one to get up to feed and clothe the children. This is partly because my wife does it the other five days and partly because they invariably ask for Daddy on the weekend. This morning my kind and lovely wife let me sleep in. This is partly because she is kind and lovely and partly because I was awakened again by howling, fighting children and I apparently only have three days of patience and we’re on day four.

The extra hour under the covers was fitful. I dreamt that my kind and lovely wife murdered me with a machete. Disturbingly, this turned out to be strangely comforting.