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The Calm Before the Morning
Morning is a game they play. It is the crossroads of grumpy and hijinks, and there are shoes to be tied, teeth to be brushed, and a number of things that really should have been done the night before,...
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The Day that LEGO Built
The boys are home sick today. One is legit. One is an opportunist. The sick one is actually feeling much better (UPDATED: Now the fever has turned into a bunch of snot and a hacking cough, which is...
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Who Do You Love?
Hello, my name is Whit, and I used to have a favorite child. It was mostly due to timing, stages, throwing a spiral, and other things on which you judge children. He was my favorite and I didn’t hide...
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Two if by Bath
“We’re taking a bath,” said my youngest as he ran naked in front of the ballgame that I was watching on television. Nobody on either team seemed to notice, and security didn’t move—just another...
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Things We Do Like the Dickens
“I was the first one dressed,” he said. It’s not a race. “I was the first one done with dinner,” said the other. You shouldn’t eat so fast. “I’m the winner,” they said in a rotating series of blurs...
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Summer 2013: Day 1
The entire school year was one giant morning of reluctance. The boys were gently coaxed, bribed, hugged, and threatened to get their sleep-filled bodies out of bed. Sometimes there was singing. It...
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On Condolences, From My Son
My boys know things about loss and love. Over the last four years we have lost my grandparents, my stepmother, Tricia’s dad, and my mom—the last two in just the past few months. In the time between we...
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A House Divided and all That
The house is in disarray. More so than usual. We had a water leak that led to walls torn down and floors ripped up. The furniture is stacked in the corner covered in dog hair and medical bills. I am...
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Born to Run
We can run from dangers and to flights of fancy. We can run like a river between the canyons built tall around us. We can run away, and strong upon our course. The younger one had always fallen to...
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Of Sportsmanship and Siblings
Two roads diverged in yellowed wood, and being lone traveler long I stood. Except the roads were actually choices because everything is a metaphor and the yellowed wood was more like a drought-ridden...
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