The Full-Time Dad Was Caught Getting a Foot Massage: Honey, Didn't You Say You Were Unemployed?

After three years as a full-time stay-at-home dad, I took my son for his first foot massage. He pointed at the prettiest masseuse in the place and said in his baby voice, "Daddy, I want that fairy lady!" Before I could explain that "Daddy's just here to relax his feet," the private-room door was kicked open. My "unemployed, stay-at-home" wife stood there in a crisp manager's uniform, walkie-talkie in hand, her gaze cold enough to freeze three cows. "Sir, would you like any special services? Our manager will personally attend to you." Guess what I did then: got down on my knees to explain, or got down on my knees to run away? [Chapter One] It all started this morning