>I’m about 7 weeks away from, all being well, adding a fifth to the brood. I told the kids that number five will be of the She variety, and within seconds the boys figured out that they’d soon be outnumbered. They conferred for a few moments, and then Efram said, “That’s fine. The next one will be a boy.” I told him that this will most likely be our last baby, to which he replied, “What do you mean? In two more years we get another one, right?”

I soon set him straight. No Efram, I said. I think this is it for us. Five seems like a lot — an actual handful, in fact.

Bennett thought he had a plan: How about a boy dog, he said. That way things would be even again. He looked rather proud with himself for having figured out a way to work the dog in to yet another one of his proposals.

At this point Francie, who’d been quiet up until now, jumped in. She informed the boys that, “Daddy told me we can either have a dog or a dad. And I think we should keep the Dad, because I don’t think dogs can fix things around the house.”

The boys agreed. One of them said, “Yeah, and Mummy can’t even use a screwdriver to change batteries, so we’d be in real trouble without him.”

(The last point, is no longer true. I’ve conquered my fear of tools and can now use a screwdriver. Not well, but I’m working on it.)