That's When I Knew I Was Sunk.

Way back when the eldest was two, things were a lot different. There were no laptops at our house. For that matter, there wasn't an X-Box, a DVD player, or even meat. There weren't any extras. We struggled like most young couples do. The one prized possession that I did have was an expensive lipstick ($25, I think). It was a gift from a sweet lady that I used to work for. Way more than I would pay for a lipstick, even today.
Well anyway, at the time, Hubby was out of work. So we switched roles, and I went out to work at a miserable job (when I say miserable I actually mean "sin dipped in misery"), and he stayed home with our toddler. All seemed to be going smooth enough when I wasn't at home. For a few days, I actually thought Hubby was competent at this parenting thing. Then I woke up.
I came home after my shift at the Gates of Hell and low and behold Hubby is watching Barney all by himself. "Where's your daughter?" I ask. His answer is a stare as empty as my bank account. I wander through our small apartment and discover our eldest in the bathroom (note, she wasn't potty trained yet) with an empty tube of the prized lipstick, the former contents covering the counter, mirror, bathtub, walls, carpeting (yes, carpet in the bathroom of this apartment. I told you we were struggling!!!), cabinets and her face and ears. This was the angriest I had been at her up to this point in her short life (as the years passed, that would change). I then exited the bathroom to get a grip on myself, at which point loving, caring, sweet Hubby steps up and says "You go relax, I'll handle this" with all the righteous fury of a disciplinary dad. I (the fool) was relieved that he would take care of it as I could have hurt that child (yeah, it's just a lipstick, but it was my one thing!).
From the living room, a mere 7 steps away, I hear "Young lady, what do you think your doing?" with Dad-style force. I am confident that Said Child will be scrubbing with a toothbrush at the hardened age of two. I'm thinking, "You go, Hubby!!!." The scene did not play out as I had imagined. I turn to look and see a reddish-brown wax-covered toddler approach Hubby, arms extended, with her pouty lips and big blue-green eyes, professing "I wuv you, Daddy." Hubby then takes her into his arms, sapping "It's okay Princess, I love you too." What a sucker!
That was the moment I knew I was sunk! Discipline was gonna be a Mom thing. Dad's a pushover.
The bushweasels can smell weakness like dogs smell fear. They prey on it every time Mom's not home. That's why when Hubby found another job, I never left the house for work again.