The 80/20 rule, revised...

                                      I was blessed to spend the entire weekend with my Wonderful Wife and three McMonkeys, in Salem , Massachusetts.

                       A belated birthday journey to the ocean, for a crusty old sailor...

                                                       ( That's me, by the way. ) 

                             Traveling is a very interesting art, especially when it includes two hormonal pre-teen boys and one imaginative nine year old Tasmanian devil impressionist.

Throw this all into the mix with two aging and aching sets of buttocks that no longer belong on five hour jaunts across several States, and deficits of coffee, donuts and more coffee...

                                                     You get the picture.

                              Having children may not be an art, but dealing with them as a sane adullt, after hours of discomfort , certainly is...

                             I may have managed to sqeak by the finger painting section but I haven't left the crayola stage yet.

                                                       But art is art, I guess...

                                  I forget to notice, sometime ( most times ), when my kids are being patient and agreeable. Over 80% of the time, I would say that they fit into that category. But they are quiet and not distracting me from matters of consequence, as my friend, The Little Prince, would say...

                                                     So I miss it, most times. 

                              And they hear me roar more often than they should. Sometimes it's easier or seems like better time management, to just to assume they are misbehaving because they are inconveniently loud...

                 All things considered, they faired pretty well, on the trip. 

                                    I would grade them a solid 80%...

                            But that's sitting home, decompressed , with benefit of six or seven quiet hours. If you'd asked me in the middle of this, I would have called it a weak 20%...

                                                          Same kids.

                                                           Same trip. 

                                    I hope when they look back on this trip, that they find themselves also, swapping the first perceived numerators and denominators...

                                       I guess that is what most parents ultimately hope for.

                                 That maybe those times that we showed them love and patience will be etched deeper and more often, into their Spirit, than all those other times, that we didn't...

                                       I hope what's not noticed, because it is their average day, are the good things;  that the roaring and impatience are the exceptions that perk their ears, and are not their norms...

                                       And after they grow up and decompress from childhood, ( a long and arduous task, on its own ) , our times together are remembered by them, gently...