Sometimes things just don’t work out as planned. By the time Rhod got to my house with the boys after school,
it was too late to dash home for his conference call. My neighbor had started up his jack hammer again, diligently
cutting up his concrete walkway and the only place in my house where Rhod could make the telephone call was in the loo. It was a first for him.
Rhod did business whilst sitting on a red cushion on the toilet. I settled the boys in front of a cartoon and made snacks. Carrots, ham, toast and juice. Once you feed the little energy generators you have to run them so they played in the garden while I hunted up my mucky shoes and off we went to the park to play another round of Star Wars.
I get confused about the parts I’m playing. Sometimes I’m a clone and I blast Obi Wan Kenobi (bad), then I’m a Dumb Droid and it’s seems to be ok to blast anybody.
Evan gets “so much into his imagination”, to quote Harry, that we don’t exist. It’s true. Evan runs around talking out the scene and playing parts based on some script I can’t figure out. A theater major-in-the-making perhaps?
At one point we were running around the sand pit and I forgot who Evan was. It’s important to know who’s who or you might light saber the wrong person or find yourself playing the character who falls into the hot lava.
“Count Dooku,” I called.
“I’m not Count Dooku,” Evan said. “He’s appalling.”
(Where did he learn that word?) I was impressed. Then he fell down dead and told me to get the Avatar Ang (Harry) to bring him back to life. At that point I think we were freely mixing up our movies.
By five o’clock we were cold, wet, muddy and hungry. The boys ran barefoot across the wet grass and down the path through the woods to my back gate. We all washed up and had a lovely dinner together that ended (with Dad’s permission) with a chocolate cookie and a bit of Curious George. I can only hope that the neighbor has finished with the jack hammer. One more day of that and I’ll be crazy.