Just when you think you can't do anything right as a father and that your kids have totally gained control of the household, things like the last two nights happen.
The scene: I am putting Caroline to bed. Caroline gets in bed, but then plays with her book, plays with her stuffed animals, or sits up to look around the room.
Both nights, after about five minutes of this, I've looked at her with my most serious expression, and with my sternest voice I've said, "Enough. Caroline, lay down, go to sleep." I then kiss her and tell her one more time, "Good night. Time for bed."
Both nights, Caroline has rolled over and fallen asleep without a protest or a wimper.
I am, like, the best Dad ever.
(Or at least until tomorrow night when she keeps me up until midnight.)