An evening like many others....

The 5:30 PM phone call from Luciana. First on the Florida cell phone. Since I was in a meeting, I immediately sent it to voice mail. The phone beeped and let me know that she actually left a voice mail. (A rare event indeed for the impatient one.) A minute later, the work cell phone rang. Apparently, she wanted to tell me something. I excused myself from the meeting and found out she had made ground chicken, refried beans and farofa. What time would I be home? she asked. Well, for good food there is no time like the present so I packed up and left immediately...

Twelve minutes later I was at the garage door. I turned off the engine and sidled awkwardly out of the door. As per my usual, I had parked close to the side of the garage to leave more room on the passenger side for getting my work bag out. Walk around the car, open passenger door, extract work bag filled with books which I have only a 50% chance of needing tonight.

I stepped inside the garage door and listened expectantly for the sounds of the boys careening around the house, slapping each other or the noise of the tv and the familiar voice of SpongeBob. Today, nothing much going on up above. Sometimes I get home to cries of "Dad-dy! Dad-dy!" followed by the rush of feet and the quick bubbling of stories about a new animal seen on tv or a friend who had wronged them during the day. Some days, I have to wave my hand in front of their face in a bid for attention. And even then (and this happened just the other day) a few minutes later when they emerge from their television induced catatonic state I receive a "Dad, your home!?" Yes, and thank you for noticing.

I kicked off my shoes into the 'shoe box' that Luciana uses tidy the landing. I could already smell the garlic that must be part of those beautiful refried beans and I accelerated my ascent up the staircase. "BOO!" yelled Mateos jumping up and flailing his arms out just as I rounded the corner. My heart skipped a few beats and I flinched like a man about to be struck. Naturally, Mateos was overjoyed and his face lit up with a huge grin and the predictable question of "I scared you really good, didn't I?" followed.

Not very shockingly, two steps later I could see Luca charging at me from 10 or so feet away. When he came close he too yelled 'boo'; I gave a half-hearted performance of being vaguely scared and he bemoaned his lack of total success with an 'awww...' and tromped away a little disappointed. I made a mental note to raise the energy level of my performance the next time, even if he is getting a bit old for that.

The scaring now done for the evening, we settled into dinner. Dinner followed its usual course with Luca first declaring that he only liked corn when it is still attached to the cob and smothered in butter and Mateos chiming in with a well-intentioned brown-nose remark of "I love corn." For my part, I only heard part of the conversations as my mind was still a little bit at work and my stomach was fully engaged with devouring the food.

The food was particularly good; a home cooked meal is not an everyday occurrence at our place and I truly enjoy them. I like to usually kick up the food a little and so I liberally sprinkled Tobasco sauce in a zig-zag pattern across the food for a little extra. Like clockwork, Luca requested some of the 'spicy red sauce' for him. I let two drops drip into his food which he claimed wasn't enough. As per the usual negotiation, the terms were laid out: if he were to eat the first few bites with the Tobasco and enjoy it, I'd provide him with a few more drops. So, he eagerly downed a few bites and demanded fulfillment of the terms. I dutifully dropped a few more into his bowl.

Meanwhile, Mateos had finished wolfing down his bowl and was displaying the emptied container to Luciana and I while requesting dessert. We would have preferred he wait until we were all done but since we choose not to use up our patience to withstand the constant "are you done yet", "how about now" and its infinite variations we don't protest and he careens from the table to the pantry in a blur of motion.

Seeing Mateos bolt to get desert, Luca immediately asked if his one third eaten bowl was enough to merit dessert. Permission denied, Luca slowly dipped his spoon back into the plate. "This is too hot! Why did you put the spicy sauce on my spoon!?" And so the second attempt at getting out of finishing his bowl had commenced. Frankly, he and Mateos both pull this one so frequently that it barely registers an eyebrow raise from Lu or I and I am not even sure if we bothered to respond. We were on Pavlovian auto-response at this point.

Dinner did eventually complete, each boy gleefully ate his dessert and then unsuccessfully petitioned for more. Soon after, they engaged each other in various games ranging from the benign -- reading maps and asking questions about "what's your favorite animal" to "what instrument should I play" -- to dragging each other around at high-speeds on the red wagon and flipping each other perilously close to walls and furniture corners.

After Lu and I finished dinner and cleaning up, the final round of homework was initiated. The boys generally do some amount of homework an hour or so after arriving home but inevitably there is a bit left for later in the evening. Plus, it is a great deal easier to get the homework done when both parents are around so we can each pair off. Without this arrangement, the individual left to his own devices generally contrives a way to garner your attention in a negative fashion that tends to include loud noise or distractedly flitting about the brother who is actually supposed to be working.

Tonight, I paired up with Luca and Luciana with Mateos. Both did very well on their work. Luca is doing a fantastic job with learning to read and he and I worked on that. It is adorable to hear him sound out the words and even more enjoyable is watching him stare heavenward as he contemplates what word the sounds he just stuttered out actually make. It is positively incredible to me that he is able to figure it out nearly all the time.

At 8:00 PM the kitchen timer sounded and the moaning began as the first steps of getting ready for bed were scheduled to commence. Mateos immediately invoked a good 15-minute procrastination -- the late evening poop. Thankfully, he did not try to produce this gambit at 8:30 when we would be putting him into actual bed. That particular tactic had at one time been successful for him but the repeated use of it had led to high stakes poker between he and the parents. Eventually, it became a high-stakes game -- if he is not able to produce the goods, he loses dessert rights for the following day.

Mateos follows the great tradition of most Norian men in leisurely basking in his toilet time. The toilet is a place of great thinking and creative imaging; a place for book reading and most importantly a place to monopolize the time (and offend the olfactory) of a parent. So, it was not long after applying his bottom to the seat did he call out to me and ask me to sit and talk with him. Recently, we have been working to lessen this dependence so I deflected by mentioning that boys at camp do not have counselors sit with them in the bathroom and that instead I would supply him with a book.

Luca, at this time, was involved in his favorite foot dragging technique -- the constant repetition of the "I'm too tired" mantra. Luca is generally too tired to take off his shirt, take off his pants, put on his pajamas or generally perform any other night time duty. There is no proven, time tested parental response to this that strikes the balance of actually getting him to actually perform these simple tasks that does not require patience, helping him significantly or turning him into a crying heap by means of yelling or forceful assistance. It is not that it can't be done but that he is creative in adapting and defending against the last known successful tact. Tonight, he was nearly cheery in getting ready and only offered up a few token "I'm too tired(s)" Truly, the hallmark of a good mood for the little guy.

Eventually -- and a good 20 minutes definitely passed and new books were brought in mid-way through -- Mateos completed his business and Luca and he completed their bedtime chores of teeth brushing and peeing (Mom is a bit of a stickler on this last point. It does not matter that you may have gone to the bathroom merely seconds earlier. You are required to make one more attempt at evacuation before bed. Mom does not like to be unnecessarily interrupted during sleeping hours and this is a safeguard.)

The boys were laid down. Goodnight hugs and kisses were enjoyed by all and the door semi-closed. Two minutes and ten minutes later we were called in for some made-up reason or another. Each time you go in, listen to the complaint/fear, offer a semi-helpful remedy and leave.