Sunday, July 17, 2011

The Big Bang (Birth of a Bra Salesman)

I am writing and writing and also packing and then writing (can't you tell?) when a loud BANG explosion from the living room stops me cold.

There are 4 kids out there (two tween girls and two redheads) so I wait a second for the laugh, the cry, the crash that comes after the BANG.

Strangely enough, nothing.

I think to ignore it, but then, I'm the adult.

 I can't wait 30 days to check on my kids.

People hold me to higher standards than that.

So I get off the yoga folded yoga mat and pull myself away from my writing and my Mac and go into the living room unannounced.

There was a Fort in my living room and no apparent casualties.

Zack's friend -- standing over a bicycle airpump that I'd uncovered in my unpacking, repacking and throwing things away --  holds up pieces of limp orange rubber (formerly Zack's favorite basketball)  and calmly explains. "It exploded."

I nod my head and point at the Fort then say nothing and return my room, to the yoga mat, to the floor half- waiting to hear Zack scream out in protest that his favorite ball had been murdered.

I wait.


I wait.

He knocks on the door then enters holding the two halves of  his basketball in his hands, offering it up to me with a big smile. "Here Mami, we made you a bra...."