Saturday is a special day

Weekends are a menacing black storm cloud on my weekly horizon. All the reasons most people love weekends are all the reasons Jack (and sometimes Charlie) can’t handle them. They need structure, not free-form days.

And so, you guys, a Saturday at my house might look like this:

1. Jack sprinkles plastic Halloween confetti throughout my unmade bed.

2. Charlie deletes every single Xbox game from the system, thinking if they are gone, new games will appear.

3. I write a Standards Night presentation for the youth in my church while Charlie wails, from the teepee beside my computer, that he has deleted all the Xbox games and new games didn’t appear.

4. As I write and Charlie wails, Truman cries because he wants to sit in the teepee.

5. Everyone cries. Everyone is sad.

6. Jack squeezes my arm painfully, which in “Jack” means, “I’m losing it. Get me out of here. Saturdays are so completely lame.”

7. Jeff/Dutch buys popsicles and the entire household starts jumping up and down, squealing.

8. Jeff/Dutch holds the bag of popsicles up like baby Simba in The Lion King and the children rejoice.

9. We send everyone to the backyard to eat popsicles while we sneak the Cherry Coke from the car to the secure location downstairs that Jack doesn’t know exists.

10. Laundry happens. I take my sheets and blankets to the deck, shaking orange, black, and silver confetti onto the lawn.

11. Jack throws the remaining shop vac (the one he hasn’t dismantled) across the kitchen, down the stairs, into the garbage.

12. Jack tries to cut the cords from kitchen appliances with scissors.

13. Jeff/Dutch says to me, “I do not love Saturdays.”

And I concur.


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