Peace & Quiet
We were watching a show the other night and suddenly there was a screaming baby on the screen, and both parents were beside themselves in aggravation.
“Remember how great I was with the infant children?” I asked.
Kathy laughed.
“You remember your excellence as a Dad with babies like you remember your athletic career.”
True.
I was dominating!
The truth of the matter is that I was awful at handling crying kids, and even worse at changing diapers.
“Can you change him real fast?” Kathy would ask.
“No. I really can’t.”
But I would try and would often end up with poop all over both of us, and then I’d proudly hold the child up for inspection.
“The diaper is upside down.”
I bring this up because the crying kid on the show cut right through me.
“Thank God we’re done with that,” I said.
“There may be grandchildren,” Kathy reminded me.
“I will NOT change a diaper,” I announced.
On Friday night, Melky cried until we went up to bed. She’s 13 now. When she wants to go to bed, we go to bed. It’s her world.
“I don’t have to get up at 5:00,” I said. “I may wake by six, but I’m not moving until at least eight. I need peace and quiet.”
That’s what happened too.
My eyes opened at six and I laid there.
Checking baseball scores (Yankees in first).
Reading about temper tantrums of grown men.
Listening to the quiet of the sleeping neighborhood.
Plotting the next 24 hours.
I wasn’t quite sure what our plans were going to be.
I just knew that they didn’t involve screaming kids.
Peace.
Quiet.
“Remember how great I was with the infant children?” I asked.
Kathy laughed.
“You remember your excellence as a Dad with babies like you remember your athletic career.”
True.
I was dominating!
The truth of the matter is that I was awful at handling crying kids, and even worse at changing diapers.
“Can you change him real fast?” Kathy would ask.
“No. I really can’t.”
But I would try and would often end up with poop all over both of us, and then I’d proudly hold the child up for inspection.
“The diaper is upside down.”
I bring this up because the crying kid on the show cut right through me.
“Thank God we’re done with that,” I said.
“There may be grandchildren,” Kathy reminded me.
“I will NOT change a diaper,” I announced.
On Friday night, Melky cried until we went up to bed. She’s 13 now. When she wants to go to bed, we go to bed. It’s her world.
“I don’t have to get up at 5:00,” I said. “I may wake by six, but I’m not moving until at least eight. I need peace and quiet.”
That’s what happened too.
My eyes opened at six and I laid there.
Checking baseball scores (Yankees in first).
Reading about temper tantrums of grown men.
Listening to the quiet of the sleeping neighborhood.
Plotting the next 24 hours.
I wasn’t quite sure what our plans were going to be.
I just knew that they didn’t involve screaming kids.
Peace.
Quiet.
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