Addiction

I knew we had a problem the first night we were in Tahoe.  After putting the kids to bed, Aubree called me back to the room.  I found her sobbing.  "I can't go to sleep without Daddy," she wailed, "I need Crack!"  I can't sleep without Craaaaaaaaack!" 

My siblings looked concerned.  "She can't sleep without crack?" 

"Yes," I conceded, "it's true.  Aubree's addicted to Crack and Mark's her supplier."

***

It began innocently enough.  Mark was putting Aubree to bed and cracked his knuckles.  Aubree giggled, "do it again!"  So he did the other hand.  "More!" she pleaded.  

The next night she asked again and soon they'd developed a regular routine.  Dad cracked everything he could and Aubree's job was to keep count.  "Wow!" I'd overhear, "15 tonight!  Good job, Dad!"  

When Mark was gone at bedtime, I proved a poor substitute - turns out I can only reliably crack my jaw and maybe a couple toes.  "Three," Aubree would count, barely hiding her disappointment, "uh, that's good, Mom."

From the other room Bryce pipes up, "Did you hear that?!  I cracked my toe!!"  He likes Crack too.  

Apparently, it's addicting.