Do YOU have kids like this . . .

Over the weekend some stray thing that I said prompted our only son to say to his father, the contributor to fully half of the genes in his body, mind you . . .

“Dad, we’re going to have an intervention soon over this NARCISSISM of yours.”

When I told the staff at my office, which is full of nothing but women, they ALL laughed and said, “Make sure that John INVITES US TOO!”

“Well, that only makes sense,” I reasonably replied, “because ‘INTERVENTIONS’ are supposed to consist of family AND friends too, right?”

“That’s RIGHT!” they all practically yelled in unison, “and BOY OH BOY do we have a lot to bring to the table.”

“OK, fine.” I said. “I’ll tell John to send each of you an invitation to MY INTERVENTION.”

“GOOD!” they cheered.

“I’ve just got one question for you people . . . WHY do you think that doing something that makes ME the center of attention is going to change anything?

“We’ll BEAT it out you!” said the meanest and toughest of the bunch who had just seen and even recommended to me and my beautiful bride of forty two years the ultra-violent movie “Bullet Train” that stars my doppelgänger Brad Pitt.

“Aren’t INTERVENTIONS supposed to be verbal only and not physically violent,” I asked.

“We don’t care . . . we’re going to bring whips!”

I laughed . . . which really infuriated them all.

“Go ahead,” I said.” “Make my day! Whips don’t scare me. I faced off against NUNS in Catholic school when I was a boy! Lay one whip . . . or ruler . . . on me and I’ll just add a MARTYR COMPLEX to my already HAPPY NARCISSISM!”

I deftly ducked the heavy object flung at my head and left the office for my 2 p.m. haircut appointment.