11 April 2013

by jkatejohnston

Dear Max,

Before we read books, we pick up all Enzo’s toys. We means Teresa and I, with what feels like very minor help from him.

Enzo: Imagine if someone made you put away all the toys in the house. That’s what it feels like. So let’s not clean up.

Me: I don’t have to imagine it.

Enzo: It’s so boring. Really, really boring.

Me: Yeah.

Enzo: If you make me put away my toys, I’ll just have to throw them away. (This is the best idea I’ve heard in weeks, but I resist telling him that. Meanwhile he starts throwing tiny dinosaurs into his trash.)

Me: I don’t care, they’re your toys. (I walk away to start picking up the living room.)

Enzo: (Yelling from his bedroom) I guess I’ll just have to throw this away.

We meet up in the kitchen, where I see him standing over the trash about to throw away volume two of the OED, also known as my laptop stand. He is waiting for me to arrive and watching for my reaction. I just laugh and take it from him. I don’t remember what I said, but what I wish I’d said was, “Oh, honey, not P through Z! It’s my favorite!”


Teresa just got back from her walk. She’s still a little sick, so she came back super tired.

Me: Poor mom! Trudge-trudge.

Enzo: Why are you so hard on yourself?