ACT 2
It seems the eldest partial primate had walked over a still wet and crumbling card board box that our dishwasher had arrived in, two months ago...
Oldest son screams to the near dying( by all rational observations) youngest one, who is probably going to be a theater major, that all he did was walk on a stupid piece of garbage-cardboard box.
As with most things in my family, the backstory might add understanding, but not necessarily sanity, to the second act of this play...
ACT 1
Our dishwasher,many moons ago, began turning on at various times, by itself, day or night; sometimes it began an entire wash cycle, while at other times just adding an extra rinse, five or six hours after it had sanitized and stopped. Being an industrial electrician, I studied, ordered parts and installed them. The ghosts inhabiting the appliance seemed happy with the added attention, and increased their shenanigans, three- fold.
I figured that dishes and pots were getting extra clean; my Wonderful Wife, thought otherwise...
Thinking that swapping out the unit for a new one would be easier than another repair, I smiled and acquiesced.
My family tends to have very long back stories...
In the end, the swap was not easier, I used a few words that my kids would be grounded for, and my youngest son, Jacob, became proud owner of a brand new, industrial grade, form fitting, cardboard box.
Markers of all colors and types disappeared from our house. The ghosts that inhabited the dishwasher seemed to have transformed into sticky fingered poltergeists.
Pens, paper, sticky tape, all were fair game...
Having given up my search for any implement to make a grocery list, I lounged on the couch. I figured I might need half a bag of potato chips and a nap, to sort this mystery out.
Just then, my littlest McMonkey banged and barged thru the house, near screaming ( ok- actually screaming ) DAD! DAD!- YOU GOTTA SEE THIS THING I TOOK THE DISHWASHER BOX AND MADE THE COOLEST FORT IT HAS RED AND GREEN AND I CAN FIT RIGHT IN IT AND IF MOM LETS ME BRING BEAR OUT WE CAN SLEEP IN IT ETC ETC ETC
The lack of punctuation was not a mistake. It is exactly how he talks, when excited.
He would carry it with him across the yards, both front and back.
Jacob can be an uncanny cross between Calvin, from " Calvin and Hobbes " and The Little Prince, sometimes..
Angelic and deep, caring for his stuffed animals with a love like The Little Prince showed his rose...
Imagination so strong that a cardboard box becomes like in the comics, a "Transmorgifier", and a fluffy bear becomes just like a certain stuffed tiger....
You just gotta know Jake...
He would bring his box onto the porch or in our garage, for safe keeping.
A week ago, or so, I told him it took up to much space in the garage. His mom said the same thing about our porch.
I put it outside, in the space between the porch and the garage, figuring the placement was a good compromise...
Of course, the rains came. The once proud fort or spaceship now became a dilapidated tenement- just not too Jake.
His brother saw it wet and wrinkled, and stomped it...
Act 3
The first thing I did that morning was to get them all on the inside of my house. I didn't want anybody thinking Jake was really dying and calling 911 or Social Services...
So I tried to explain to the two perplexed older brothers a lesson that I didn't even know how to describe to myself...
I hemmed and hawed, trying to find the words to help them understand how something seemingly worthless, like an old, withered box could be precious to someone.
Try explaining that to a twelve and a thirteen year old...
I stopped in mid sentence.
" Upstairs in my sock drawer, I have notes and pictures that you all have drawn and written, years ago." I said.
The two older ones smirked, amused and doubting. I looked them in the eye as I began pulling my wallet from my back pocket. " Those letters and pictures are some of the most precious things I have in this house. If there was a fire, after making sure everyone was out, I would grab them all, as I left." As I was saying this my fingers perused my wallet, searching.
I pulled out a tiny, handmade million dollar bill that Nick had made for me about eight years ago. Their eyes opened wide in disbelief and puzzlement.
" I've had this in my wallet since Nick gave it to me. Every year, when I get a new wallet and go thru all the " stuff" that gets collected, I hold this in my hands and remember getting it. I put it next to any few real dollars I might have. You're mom watched once,as I switched things, from one to another, as puzzled as you guys are now.
She asked why I didn't throw that away, because he had made thousands of them, some still stuck in her vacuum cleaner."
I couldn't explain it well to her then, either.
All three of my boys looked touched and surprised. Nick was actually smiling.
" If someone found this piece of paper on our porch, they would throw it away, without a thought"... I said as I gently placed it back in the outside flap.
For a millisecond, I think they got it. Soon, they were arguing and justifying, again...
I told them that this was a subtle lesson that probably wouldn't mean anything to them for a very long time.
" Huh?" they replied.
You gotta love teens...
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