I Live a Normal Life

Like any good father, I have taken some time to teach my son about the finer things in life. And so it is that occasion will find the two of us, Wii remotes in hand, stomping Goombas and hurling turtle shells our futile quest to save Princess Peach. Not that we’ve enjoyed such frivolities lately. Being a working father leaves little time for the excesses of life, such as Mario, reading for pleasure and children.

Yet on the way home from work this Monday, I was struck with a strange urge to lock the children in a closet and indulge in a munchkinless night out with my wife. Finding all the closets full, I resorted to plan B, nearly exhausting my phone list before procuring a sitter. One trip across town to pick them up and a cooked package of macaroni and cheese later, my pleasantly surprised wife and I were off.

As freedom’s wind blew through our hair, we drove off into the night. Any destination was but a wish away. Movies, dinner, there was so much to choose from. With little to no discussion, I directed our car to our first date-night destination – Menards.

That’s right, with the entire town of Springfield at our beckon call, we could find no destination more alluring than a big-box hardware store. While that may be taken as a commentary on the night life in Illinois’ capitol city, I feel it is more a tale of our life less extraordinary. For the past three months, we have watched as our general contractor has managed a mere single step per week in his painstakingly slow process of building us a porch. Two weeks ago, they poured the front steps. Last week, he got prices for the railings. This week, he’s ordering the materials. Next week, he may get the wiring done and if we’re lucky, he may even install the railings the week after that . . . . . and that’s why our first stop as an unleashed couple was to stop at Menards. After all, picking out lighting fixtures for your front door is not a task that begs to be distracted by miniature humans.

Picking the lights we both liked may have been the easiest decision we have ever made. We found our way to the lighting displays, took two steps down the aisle, when both of us simultaneously pointed and exclaimed, “I like that one!” We were courteous enough to give our due our respect for the other suitors, but it was all show. Our minds were made up and our time at Menards was quickly over.

With Menards behind us, our night took on a more standard date-night feel. We enjoyed a quiet dinner at a fancy restaurant, followed by little boy underwear shopping at ShopKo. Hey, I never claimed to live a normal life . . . ahem.

But these are the things that make up our life. With Andrew finally beginning to understand the concept of staying dry (at least from Sunday morning until about half an hour ago Wednesday evening), we needed more than five pairs to allow the laundry to sit unmolested. And with his sudden understanding of, shall we say ‘when he needs to go’, I had little desire to tempt fate by having to put him back in pull-ups.

It’s amazing how suddenly Andrew seems to have changed his habits. Over the course of one day, he went from contentedly sitting in soggy bottoms to coming out of the bathroom having already done his business before even telling us he had to go. I guess sometimes things just click.

Speaking of clicking, Andrew accompanied me through the bank drive-up the other day. On a previous trip to the Wal-Mart pharmacy, I had tried to explain how there was a tube inside a pillar that took a box from me to . . . well, if you know what I mean, he didn’t. But as I pulled up to the bank, I noticed that the tube was visible. I showed Andrew the canister and explained how I would push a button and air would suck the canister up the tube. He listened intently, then interjected, “Like Mario goes down the tube!” I had to stop short and think about it . . . It was so simple and so beautiful. I answered the only way one possibly can when faced with such crystal clear childhood perception. “Yes, it’s exactly like Mario.”