Hello, folks! It’s been awfully fun having you spend time with us this week. But before you go and spend the next couple of days in a drunken stupor, hiding from your children when you’re not beating them, let’s go over what we’ve learned since Monday:

• Theodore’s mother is excellent blog-post fodder
• New York kindergartens no longer teach kids to read
• Grover’s existence is much appreciated
• Don’t write about surprising your wife on Valentine’s Day if you want to actually surprise her
• It’s never too early to start worrying about what your kid will write in her memoirs
• Posting a video, along with a couple of paragraphs of framing material, is an excellent way to run a blog
• Santa does not exist exists!

That’s all for this week, kids. Check back on Monday for more ambitious experiments in parental journalism!

You know what? It was a busy week here at DWHQ. A damn busy week. Which is amusing because it didn’t seem like that was going to happen. You know, we began in a fairly normal way, with Theodore complaining, or maybe not complaining, about his (un)birthday. But then, ZAM! His mother wrote in with a comment for the ages:

liar liar pants on fire i called twice –you did not answer — i texted twice –you did not answer . then i left a message with your wife to say i wished you a happy. you just needed to write a pithy , semihumorous , semi selfpitying mmonologe . next time –mom says answer your phone when i call .

Awesome. From there, things only got better, particularly when Theodore wrote something  for the local paper, which drove many, many readers our way. Also, another reader threatened to quit us. Exciting!

Nathan, meanwhile, advocated showing Star Wars to children, bragged about his genius at throwing birthday parties, and interviewed John Donohue, editor of the cool new book “Man With a Pan.” Also, he discussed Hosni Mubarak’s separation anxiety.

Actually, Nathan’s birthday party planning had one fatal flaw, according to Matt: No presents?!? Matt also spent some time thinking, for once, about his daughter’s education: first, about how scared he is he’ll accidentally enroll her in a Scientologist school; and second, about how he’s not going to bother to teach her Chinese. (Sorry, Amy Chua.) Also, he posted some amusing videos.

Anyway, that’s about it. Have a good weekend. See you Monday.

Yes, I know it’s only Monday, but it’s hard to imagine any of our otherwise brilliant commenters besting this one, a scathing response to Theodore’s “un-birthday” post from his own mother:

liar liar pants on fire i called twice –you did not answer — i texted twice –you did not answer . then i left a message with your wife to say i wished you a happy. you just needed to write a pithy , semihumorous , semi selfpitying mmonologe . next time –mom says answer your phone when i call .

Think you can do better than that? Readers, we await your contributions.

This week marked an end—and therefore a new beginning—for those of us on the ‘wagon. Theodore in particular: Newly laid-off from Harper’s Magazine, he decided to devote himself full-time to parenting, eschewing snark and sarca— Oh, wait, sorry. It didn’t quite happen that way. While he did briefly, earnestly consider whether his children would look down on his lazy, pajama-clad ass, and then pondered having them grow up to become IDF soldiers, he quickly returned to insincere stereotyping (do girls sleep better than boys?) and whingeing about how boring it is to take care of infants.

His curtailed moment of honesty, however, spurred Matt to a bit of self-examination, in which he admitted that, as glamorous as travel-writing is, he might get a job if his wife, Jean, asked him to. Elsewhere, he mused about how fighting with his daughter, Sasha, is like fighting with Jean, then praised Sasha for behaving well for exactly one day. Also, he eagerly awaited a future in which he will be able to play Jedi mind tricks on her.

Apart from his consideration of whether to get a job himself—he claims to be happiest without one–Nathan existed in a particularly (Nathanian?) universe of dreaming babies and reggaetón clowns, a cosmos where Russian mohels circumcise pullovers and there exists one, and only one, appropriate food for breakfast. (Hint: It’s cereal.) Rumor has it he’ll find the wormhole back to our reality sometime over the weekend.

Till Monday, we wish you 新年快樂! Also: Chúc mừng năm mới! In other words: Happy Chinese New Year!