When I graduated from college I thought I knew the answers to a number of questions about history, and music and accounting.

A few months into my first real job I figured I knew all about hiring, training and butt kissing.

When I got married I received on-the-job training in showing courtesy, diplomacy and kindness.

Now that I have four enthusiastic young kids running around the house I know that I don’t know JACK SQUAT.

Which is a huge shot to my ego because I was starting to think I could at least keep my score in the positive and stick around for final Jeopardy were I ever invited to be a contestant during “College Week”.

Having children has only confirmed that I don’t know much of anything. A day doesn’t go by that I’m fielding questions for which Google has no answer. Here’s a sampling of the questions the kids asked me as we washed the cars this weekend:

“What is the most important part of the car?”

“What are windows made of?”

“How does a sponge hold so much water?”

“How come we have to sing in church?”

“How do my new glasses make my eyes see better?”

“Who makes it rain?”

It won’t be long before my kids know more than I do and won’t look to me for answers.

But hopefully they will continue to use my lap as a pillow and my back as a ladder to the top bunk.

Kai, our 1 year old son, was putting up a good fight this evening. His little body was exhausted yet he couldn’t stop squirming and yelling. He didn’t want to be cuddled. He didn’t want to be rocked. I have no idea what he wanted.

I grabbed a pillow and placed it on my lap. I took Kai and laid him on the pillow. He couldn’t keep his arms and legs still. He looked like a potato bug that had been turned on its back. His eyes were droopy. His cheeks covered in tears.

I let him twist and stretch until he finally began to settle down. He finally situated himself where he could watch me watch him. I looked into his dark blue eyes and wondered what he’s thinking.

Does he realize how much he’s loved? Does he recognize me? What’s going through his mind as I twirl him back and forth on my chair with George Winston playing in the background?

He searches for my hand until he finds a finger and squeezes it as tightly as he can. His grip feels stronger than his size would reflect. Maybe this is his way of connecting with me.

And that’s fine with me because he’s almost outgrown my lap. It won’t be long till he’s hanging off my back begging me to give him a camel ride around the living room. Or blast him off rocket style onto the top bunk.

Kai could very well be our last baby to keep us up at night.

Be as wiggly and loud as you want, Kai.

I’ll miss it when it’s gone.

Sometimes my kids mistake me for a jungle gym. I don’t believe I look like a jungle gym but my kids must think otherwise because why else would they crawl up my legs to reach my back to swing from my arms?

And that’s usually followed by, “Hey dad, let us get on your back and ride you like a camel!” I’ve heard they are resilient creatures but I’d like to see how far a camel could travel with two kids jumping up and down on its back and spanking its butt while another child dangles from its neck yelling, “GO FASTER AND TRY TO TIP US OFF!”

None of my children can sit NEXT to me. I’ve tried for years with no luck whatsoever. We have a large and a small couch in the TV room. Occasionally I’ll try to sneak onto the small one while the kids sit comfortably on the big couch. But within 5 seconds, all three are fighting to sit on my lap.

While I told them a story in bed tonight, Anna Lynn jumped on my lap so hard it’s a good thing we have four children because I’m not sure I can biologically father any more.

I sometimes feel like that grasshopper on the Discovery channel that’s taken down buy a large army of ants. I can withstand the blow of one or two kids but I’m eventually worn down by their sheer numbers.

Yet, I wouldn’t trade these times for anything even it it means I’m the recipient of a few wet willies, noogies and the occasional wedgie. I know it won’t be long before they’ve outgrown the camel rides.