Thursday, February 19, 2009

Diary of a Single Father - Day 2

Dear Diary,
After a dinner of leftover lasagna, carrot sticks, blackberries, potato salad, and laffy taffy, I was cleaning up in the kitchen. The children were making a lot of ruckus in the living quarters and so I went to investigate for fear of shenanigans. When I arrived, the miniature hooligans were putting the finishing touches on their own stronghold. With my photographing device, I was able to capture an image of my daughter crawling in through the only entrance.

They undoubtedly thought their fort impregnable. Little did they know that I considered it the Bastille and me the French citizenry - their fortress would fall. I decided to start off stern but fair and so I informed them that the immediate surrender of their holdings would result in no formal punishment. No proper response was issued, but I understood the rebuke nonetheless. My son stared at me through a pair of binoculars as if to say "Do your worst, father, you shan't move us from this place without a fight!"

I realized that I could not hope to assault the walls they had crafted and come away unscathed, and so I opted for trickery rather than force. By making it sound as joyful as flying a kite on a warm summer afternoon, I lured them out by promising that they could help me finish cleaning a urine soaked davenport cushion. The offending cushions were supposed to be drying out after being washed, but were not completing their task hastily enough for me. I put boots on my night-clothed son and my pants-less daughter and bade them walk merrily on the cushions while strategically placed toweling cloths were on hand to soak up the evacuating moisture.

After the task was completed, I commanded the rug-rats to remove their boots and retire to their sleeping chambers. They boldly disobeyed by dancing a haughty jig for nearly a minute.

Nearing my own exhaustion, the children are finally squared away until sunrise. I will, myself, now retire for the night. My loving wife is set to return to me tomorrow. I look forward to abating my constant vigilance over my brood and once again sharing the responsibility.