Typical night

After some stressful days I was really looking forward to a quiet Monday night spent watching Allen Iverson's return to the Sixers.

Around 7 pm, after organizing the kids, checking their homework, feeding them, cleaning up the kitchen, and the half dozen other things that need to be done, I settled in and watched the introduction to " You Six-ahhhhs Stahhhh-tahhhhs !"

Right before tip-off my daughter informed me that she needed me to edit a paper she wrote. I told her that it would have to wait but was informed that (a) it was due the next morning and (b) it was about her pledge to not do drugs and delaying the process might lessen her committment to a drug free lifestyle. ( she's effectively manipulative like that)

She after 10 minutes of instruction I finally got her to email to me so that I could edit it on my laptop and still watch the game....and of course finish the online poker tournament that I had open and read my emails.

So still hanging onto some sense of relaxation I started editing the document when the boy walked in, " Hey awesome Iverson !" and plopped down next to me. He started his usual routine, figiting, tossing a ball up and down, chewing on the fingernails and sticking his head in front of my screen to see what I'm doing and reading aloud ( alternately) the anti-drug screed and my hole cards usually in the form of a question.

" I'm committed to a drug free lifestlye... ( shuffle)... Jack - seven you should bet right ?..( toss the ball)..alcohol is bad...(knock something over)..why did you fold ?...(pick a wedge)... Oooo Iverson just scored, isn't he on Memphis ? Hey where did the poker screen go ?"

Its like living with an epileptic Alex Trebek.

Finally I couldn't take it, " GO OVER THERE AND STOP MOVING !"

I finished the email and sent to my daughter. Of course she couldn't get the printer to work.

I went over to the printer, started working, and a face appeared two inches away from me cheek to cheek, " Hey, do you know what the problem is ?....(shuffle)....Did you check the printer cartridge ?...( bounce, bounce)....Is there paper in it ?..."

" OUT ! GET OUT ! GO UPSTAIRS !!!!"

" Geeze,. what's wrong with him", and the boy headed upstairs.

I just about got the printer working when I heard SMASH..." OW!" and my daughter and I ran upstairs to find glass shards everywhere and the boy bleeding and running his hand under the kitchen faucet. " Ummm, I cut my finger"

He had been tossing a Christmas ornament around like a ball and in broke in his hand.

" GODDAMMIT !", I started freaking out. " GET OVER HERE."

I threw two band-aids on the kid and my daughter started in on me, " Did you put neosporin on it ? Mom says if you don't put neosporin on it that its going to get infected ? I saw you didn't put in on, he's going to get and infected finger, Yourgoingtogetandinfectedfingeryoubetterputsomeneosporiinthererightnow...or I'm telling Mom !"

That's when I really lost it. I started screwaming and speaking in tongues and chasing kids around. When my wife finally got home she found noe kid hiding in the basement, the boy in the bathroom off the kitchen, and me on the kitchen floor with a dustbuster picking up glass and talking to myself.

" What's going on....", she started...

" DON'T ASK !"

That's when I heard the following. FLUSH.......FLUSH.......FLUSH......"UH-OH".

" Open the door"

" I don't want to open the door"

" OPEN the door"

" I really don't think its a good idea that I open the door"

" OPEN THE DOOR"

" OK, but I don't think that its going to go well"

The boy, holed up in the bathroom, had decided that rather than run the risk of having to deal with the maniac outside the bathroom, that a more reasonable solution to running out of toilet paper was to tear up a toilet paper roll and wipe with that. He hadn't accounted for the "flush factor".

I left him with a trashbag, a pair of gloves, and a plunger before I left for the bar.