Another lovely, restful Sunday is in the books. Let's write about: the law.
"I'm the law in this house," Dad would bellow at us whenever one of us did something to displease him. "Whatever I say goes!"
Usually we'd just nod silently with our eyes on his plaid socks. If Tommy was in one of his smartass moods he might snap Dad a crisp salute - and then run like hell.
We couldn't wait to move out so we could reign over our own homes. It would be all our rules, all the time.
Funny thing is, now that we're all grown up with families of our own... our laws sound a whole hell of a lot like Dad's.