“You mean, like a stay-at-home dad?” I asked, snuggling up behind him for warmth.
“Yeah. You know. A dad who stays home and takes care of the kids.”
“I know what it is!”
“Well?”
“I’ve never been a stay-at-home anything, and I don’t plan on starting now. Why don’t you stay home and take care of the kids?”
“Because I’m not a writer with an office upstairs, and I’m not as good with the kids as you are.”
“I’ll bet you say that to all your husbands.”
“Just you.”
“So you have more than one?”
“God forbid. One is bad enough.”
“Thank you! We’ve got bills to pay, you know.”
“We’re doing fine, and I think it would be great for the kids if you were around. Just for a while. Get them started with school and stuff. Provide a little stability.”
“I need to find a job!”
“I just found you one.”
“A real job!”
“Taking care of kids is not a real job? God, you’re starting to sound like my dad. I thought you were a communist.”