Leader of the Pack(ing)

After celebrating "our" Christmas morning with the opening of stockings and cups of spiced tea, I was reading aloud to the family from a short, funny Christmas novel. I paused at the end of a chapter to see if they were bored or wanted to hear more. "More! More!" cheered the kids, who were stinky and bed-headed, and reveling in their laziness. But my husband looked at the clock. We were leaving later to make the trek home to be with our families for Christmas.
"How long will it take you all to pack?" he inquired.
"I usually just stick my whole closet in the suitcase," Hillary chirped. "That way I always have whatever I need."
But Dad was already shaking his head. "We'll be there four days...which means every person needs four shirts, two pair of pants, and four pairs of underwear. And if you sleep in your underwear, you don't even need to pack pajamas."
Hillary looked horrified. Sleep in your underwear?
But she shouldn't be surprised. In an effort to keep me from having a nervous breakdown as I'm getting the family ready for a trip, my loving husband has been overseeing the packing of clothes for lots of years now. Like a general, he barks specifics...length of trip, expected weather, and planned activities. He arranges suitcases on the bed and carefully sorts socks and underwear into specific and secret zipped pockets. The kids dutifully bring him their armloads of articles, and he folds and refolds, determined to fit each person into their personal rolling suitcase. He's tried various methods and seems to like the "each person in his own suitcase" one the best. This stands in sharp contrast to the one ENORMOUS suitcase he purchased when he and I went to Mexico for our 10 year wedding anniversary. I thought for a moment he was going to save money on airfare by packing ME in the suitcase with the clothes. But, of course, after I shoved it full of the 20 different outfits I imagined I might need for 7 days on the beach, it was so heavy he could barely wrestle it into the trunk of the car. I'm surprised the airline didn't charge us extra for adding to the weight of the plane. And, as usual, I didn't need half of the stuff I'd brought, as we mostly wore the same two swimsuits everyday. And he swore that from that day forward, we would be more frugal packers.
I am thankful that he takes on this job. For, inevitably, when we reach our destination, Parker has no socks and Hillary can't find the bra she likes to wear with that one shirt. And I get to say, "Talk to your dad. He packed us." And for once something is not my fault.
I'm sure this is what God had in mind when he said in the bible that the man was to be the head, or leader, of the family. So if I have to make sure the bills get paid, the teachers get emailed, the underwear gets washed, and the tender emotions of teenagers are protected, that's ok. At least in this one area, my husband is the Leader of Our Pack!