Why I’m the disciplinarian

On a few occasions my husband has found himself in a position where he needed to discipline the kids. (I said, “You need to discipline the kids.”) I have learned his methods are crazy unique.
The last time he was given the opportunity to show the kids who’s boss he really let his creativity shine. We were on our way home and the ridiculous whining started. Whining that makes you want to jab sharp objects in your ears. It was late, and the kids were hungry. We drove through Taco Bell and picked up food. (I know…fast food=bad mama) The whining didn’t stop.
“It’s cold.”
“Noooooo I’m hot”
“She kicked me.”
“Well, lasterday he took my baby, and now I’m gonna take his Spider-Man.” (Lasterday translation: yesterday)
“Noooooo, now I’m gonna throw Josh off the castle.” (Josh: baby doll’s name, castle: loft bed)
Me to my husband: “This is getting out of hand. You have got to start disciplining them.”
Husband to me: “You’re right. I’ve got this.”
Husband to kids: “Hey, are y’all hungry?”
Kids in super whiney voices: “Yesssss sirrrrr!”
Husband: “Well, too bad. I am throwing your food out the window.”
Before I can explain to him why this is the worst possible idea ever he rolls down the window and pretends to throw the food out. Oh my goodness, I cannot express how horrible the last five minutes of our ride home were. Those kids screamed and cried the whole way. As usual, there was no reasoning with them. They couldn’t understand that daddy was only pretending. They cried in the house, they cried while they ate, and they cried getting ready for bed.
They finally calmed down and we sat together to say our prayers. The oldest looked at me with teary eyes and asked, still in a very whiney voice, “Mama, can we pray for daddy because he lied?” I gave my husband the stank eye, said, “You’ve got this right?”, then walked out of the room.