Okay, I’m not any happier saying this than you are hearing it, but as of this moment, Friday afternoon, something has occurred that, this morning, I said wouldn’t happen, and that — also this morning – my wife said would. In other words: It would appear that events have proven her correct.
Again.
God.
I don’t even have much time to explain it to you. Because…
The kids had off from school today, and rather than stick them at one of their knuckleheaded friend’s houses, the kind who, guaranteed, plays nothing but the dreaded Nintendo all day — an activity proudly verboten in our home — I said, “Hey, why don’t I just take them to work with me? I used to go to my dad’s office a bunch, and we always had a great time together. This kind of day doesn’t come up a lot. They’re off, I’m around, it’s a beautiful day, we’ll grab a bite together. No big deal. Just a natural way to take advantage of circumstances.”
Or something. To which my wife replied, “This is a bad idea. You won’t be able to write, and you’ll come home mad.”
To which I replied, “Ha-ha-ha. How little you know of me. I’ll bring some Legos and books with them, and a deck of cards, and they’ll be fine.”
To which she replied — again, but slower and louder — “This is a bad idea. You won’t be able to write, and you’ll come home mad.”
Ah, well. It’s gone great, really, in all sorts of ways, but each call I made — not so directly important to the struggle of good and evil in the world, perhaps, but important to me — ended with me glaring over at them, snapping my fingers loudly, like a mother in 1963, and whoever was on the other end of the phone saying, “Call me back when you’re free.” Twice, the guy was cracking up when he said it. Once was an interview for the book. I’m pretty sure the woman doing the interviewing didn’t think the whole thing was so funny.
Four times so far, just writing this much, one of them said, “Can we take the cart around again?” and the other one said, each time, “Can we go to Ultra-Zone today?” causing the first one to say, “We’re not going to Ultra-zone. Are we, Daddy?” Four times. I can’t even quite concentrate on this, because I know there’s going to be a fifth.
It just happened. We’re now going for six.
They’re laughing, by the way, and so am I. I like to pretend I’m cranky more than I really am, but I’m afraid that’s all for today.
It just dawned on me that, perhaps, my father was never quite as thrilled as I was when he took me to work with him.
They just ran out down the hall. I’ve got to go get them. I won’t be blogging tomorrow because of the Jewish holiday. Maybe Sunday. Definitely Monday.
Most importantly: I’m going to tell my wife I didn’t blog anything today, but that the kids were great. Let’s keep the rest between you and me.
I just heard a scream from down the hall.
LARRY MILLER, FRIDAY, LOS ANGELES
