Life in the big house

There are days when I really feel like raising children must be a bit like being a prison warden. I joke about this to Kirsten often, as she really does work in a prison, in Denmark, where I would like to think that the inmates are slightly more civilized than in other places around the world. But I may be kidding myself. I digress.
I've noticed that when one of my inmates -- erm, I mean, sons -- is getting into trouble, sometimes that really riles the other ones and they start acting really rowdy and making monkey noises. "Oo! Oo!" And in my mind I flash back to all the prison movies I've ever seen, where the men start rattling their bars and making a ruckus. I run a tight ship, and I'd like to think I'm firm, but fair, like Robert Redford in "Brubaker." Anyway, today I snapped proof of my whole theory, as my baby, standing at the top of the stairs, gave me pause for thought.