Sunday, December 22, 2013

Overheard 2013 Runners Up

As the boys get older the unintentional comedy gets sparser.  This year, Teddy made far
Nice faces, boys.
more oops funnies than Charlie did through the year.  In the interest of giving the boys equal time in the Christmas letter, the cutting room floor all belongs to Ted:

Holding his trembling hand toward something he wanted:
T: I’m using The Force.
P: How’s that working out for you?
T: Not great.

With an ice cube cooling his hot chocolate:
T: My ice cube weared out fast.

Dictating an email message to family members about losing his first tooth:
T: I lost my first tooth! Ya…a…y!  In ‘yay’, put 10 A’s.”

To go down memory lane follow the tag link for Christmas Letter to see how many cute things both boys said in past years.

Tuesday, December 10, 2013

An Everyday

An Everyday

a prose poem
November 2013

Almost as soon as I get into the 
night-lit bathroom on Saturday,
I hear the smallest knock one hears
in our house.

After my "Come in." (compliant
like his mother was as a child), he
enters, his hair a true sculptural 
artifact of sleep.  He never sleeps in long.

Running the hot water for my 
shave, I watch him paste up his toothbrush.
Rather than "Good morning", he says
"I need cold."

Sighing, I switch from
hot to cold for him.

Just like I do, he sticks the pad
of his pinkie into the stream to
see if it's cooled to his liking.

Then it's back to hot for my shave.
And we're standing side by side
Y shaving, 1/2Y brushing.

When I thought about being a
father, I thought about feeding
and clothing, looking out for health,
teaching children right from wrong
and how the world works.

I didn't think much about
shaving cream and toothpaste
squeezed out simultaneously.
I didn't contemplate
competing demands for hot and cold water.

I didn't reckon with
a roommate thirty years my junior
sharing the sink.

While I help them learn how to live,
I also live with them.

And the lack of these 
moments will make me miss
them when they have new roommates
in East Lansing or Lewisburg.

Quiet dinners and clean, orderly rooms
will make me miss them.
Already, when they're gone for just
a day, their mother and I mock-remind
each other of chores to do.
They are not there to remind.
How will we handle it when they're
not coming back to share our