“Check this out, dad. It’s like the most fun I’ll ever have, ever, of my whole life like.”
This was last Friday morning on the way to the school bus. It has been the theme of his week. The upcoming unimaginably wonderful weekend.
“First, Alissa comes tonight and I can go on the computer…”
“Only if you…”
“Yeah, yeah, I know dad, only if I behave right at school. But listen, after I go on the computer, tomorrow … ”
Now that had an impact.
“…tomorrow it’s Edgar’s birthday and we go go go go…hah, did you hear me dad?…yeah we go go go go-karting. Aaaawwwwessssome.”
I must admit go karting is pretty awesome. Small, powerful, smelly vehicles careening around an indoor track in barely controlled mayhem.
Too bad it’s with a bunch of kids who have only recently learned to control their bowel movements, let alone hurtling vehicles.
“Yeah and then, Sunday, it’s the Pokemon Pre-Release Tournament where we get like, eh, you know, sixty, yeah, sixty, imagine sixty new cards that are not even released yet, That’s why it’s called Pre-Release. You understand?”
He’s told me everyday, several times a day for the last few days, so, yeah….
“I understand, Noah.”
“Yeah and then Monday its Halloween and we go to school in costume. Dad we gotta get gray and red and black make-up.”
“On the way home, tonight.”
“We need lots.”
I’ve learned that you don’t argue about taste or quantities. My feast is another man’s poverty.
“And then, it’s Trrrrrricccckkkk ‘RRRRR Treeeaaaatttt, oh yeah, oh yeah, aaaawwwweessssooommmeeee.”
He’s still dancing and singing as he disappears into the school bus.
That’s his weekend, so, by definition, it’s my weekend.
The hell with the things undone that rot my life. The unpaid bills, the unwashed dishes, the unswept floors, the unfilmed screenplays, the women unloved, the depths unplumbed, the heights unconquered.
Saturday, I strap on a helmet and whoop in the noxious fumes of Kartomania.
Sunday, I rah rah and fist pump my future Pokemon Master on his quest through the Univa region.
Monday, I’m the bag man as he roams the streets as the Soul Reaper, harvesting candies in such abundance that I carry two spare bags for the overflow.
Halloween weekend… celebrating the departed through derision, fun and noise.
My illusions are lying in a shallow grave, in between the tombstones of Past and Future.
I have finished mourning them all.
BOOOOO…..you don’t scare me anymore. PPPPFFFFFFFTTTT…. you don’t seduce me anymore.
Focus, dad. Relax, dad. Enjoy, dad.
Just before he disappears in the school bus, this Halloween Monday morning, my little Soul Reaper flashes me a smile and mouths a silent ‘Aweeeeeessssommmmeee’ complete with fist pump.
I may be slow, but I’m getting the message.