When Francie asked me if I could stay home with the boys for a few hours this Thursday morning, I initially thought it was a good idea. I had not written this week’s commentary, so a quiet morning at home seemed to be the perfect setting to hammer it out. A lot has happened over the last several weeks – the Boston Marathon, the trip to Dubai, graduation - so there was plenty to write about and I was eager to get to work without the typical office distractions.
Around 7:30, I heard the standard brother-to brother greeting of “shut up” followed immediately by the endearing follow-up of “no, you shut up.” Aaah, the day - and summer vacation - had begun. This exchange was apparently over a t-shirt and was quickly resolved. I suggested they get dressed while I made them breakfast….well, I should clarify that. “Making” breakfast for them usually consists of getting the cereal box out of pantry, the milk out of the fridge and the bowls out of the cabinet. When my culinary juices are really flowing, making breakfast may consist of removing frozen waffles from the freezer and gently placing them in the toaster. This morning, it was cereal.
I had just returned to the desk when I heard the familiar intro to Kashmir blaring from the boys’ room. Out of respect for Zeppelin, I tried to let it ride but couldn’t concentrate. I once again left the desk and went to their room. “Turn it down, guys. I’m trying to write,” I said while simultaneously noticing that they had not yet dressed as instructed some twenty minutes prior. “And get dressed like I told you and go eat,” I barked as I once again closed the door.
The music was still playing as I returned to the desk. I yelled once again for them to turn it down, wondering to myself if I had become that guy. “Turn it down?” That’s one of those phrases – along with “we’ll see” – that I vowed never to say as a father. Anyway, the yelling worked and I got back to work.
Ten minutes later I smelled something from the kitchen – something burning. Sam had attempted to butter a waffle before putting it in the toaster and the end result was a sizzling pile of melted butter and a burned, mangled waffle in one of the toaster slots. The boys – by this time watching TV – were oblivious to the odor and mess. I mumbled something to myself, cleaned out the toaster and put away the rest of the breakfast supplies. The morning was starting to slip away.
As I retreated to my desk I asked the boys to take the dogs for a walk. Ben gave an acknowledging head nod to indicate he had heard my directive. The next ten minutes or so were relatively quiet, so I assumed the boys and the dogs were outside. I then heard the familiar thud from the boys’ room followed by a deep “raaaaaah” from Sam, presumably simulating the roar of a crowd. They were playing mini-hoops and Sam had just delivered a thunderous tomahawk jam over Ben. An argument ensued. I, once again, entered the room. “Guys, do not argue over that game or I’m taking the goal down!” I angrily declared.
As I slammed the door shut, I immediately saw a puddle and our two dachshunds slinking down the hall. They had apparently not been out. “Guys, why didn’t you take the dogs out like I told you to – one of them peed in the hall!” A sheepish “oops” was all I heard from the adjacent room.
I looked at my computer screen and then my watch. I had managed to write only two paragraphs in three hours. It was becoming painfully apparent that I was not going to accomplish anything in the “tranquility” of my own home. As the opening guitar riffs from Kashmir once again shook the walls, I decided to go with Plan B. “Get on your shoes, guys…you’re going to Paw Paw’s house.”
As we drove to my in-laws, I wondered what I was now going to write about. I had meetings in the afternoon and Tessa’s deadline loomed. From the back, Ben pleaded to go to the U2 concert in Houston this fall. Without really thinking, I responded with a “we’ll see, Ben. We’ll see.” Wow. Had I really become that guy? A “turn it down” and a “we’ll see” in a matter of two hours. A pointed “when I was your age” could not be too far away.
I thought about that as I drove to the office. Appropriately, Kashmir began playing on KLBJ. I shook my head, smiled and turned it up. U2 in Houston this fall? Yeah, I think we can do that.
