The phone call comes tonight like I knew it would. It’s my oldest boy.
He’s 14, working through the stretch in life where parents only get to see him during visiting hours. And only if nobody’s looking.
“Will you come home and take me with you to the store,” he asks, reaching me at my work desk.
I [...]
By themselves, the small steps don’t seem to matter. You wonder if you will ever get where you are going.
It’s time for a different approach. OK, son. Let’s suppose you give up and refuse to do the work in school.
My youngest son swore the other day.
He didn’t say the big one, thank goodness, the one that makes mom go into a spasm and reach for the Dial soap. (For the record, Barb does not allow this form of punishment here. She prefers something much more lethal: Celine Dion songs played backwards.)
On that day, I [...]
I knew the question was coming and I guess I didn’t want to hear it.
If he were in charge of nuclear codes, my son would probably leave them on the kitchen floor. He’s that way.
The middle daughter is above all this, operating her iTouch somewhere else in the house. Not many words are spoken because we’re all staring at some screen, lost inside the virtual world.
“Do you want me to read you a story?” I asked.
I thought I knew what Spencer would say. I thought he would politely shake his head no, or just say “not a chance.”
Nothing can get by me, as far as they realize. They could do something in another country and some how I will find out about it. It’s a special power that Bill Cosby instills upon every dad before he begins his tour of duty.
If you ever need a pick-me-up, go hang out with the little kids.
Ever want to feel like David Cook on tour, then go visit a first-second grade classroom.
