The days old toothpaste that has affixed itself to the side of the basin of the sink, in a bathroom in our house, is evidence enough. The white striations of flouride, mixed with scope (supposedly) that run down the slopes of the sink, retell the story of non-detailed little people slashing away at their teeth, in hopes of eradicating that final germ of plaque.
I have kids.
They leave their clothes laying around their rooms, but probably not quite as much as I did. Maybe they'll take their dishes into the kitchen, and I'm sure Vegas will give them really good odds that they set them down without rinsing those dishes... And, the underwear, towels, hoodies, and jewelry that I find in the bathroom, in the middle of the hall, retell the stories of mornings gone by, and searches engaged upon, for "this", "that" and the "other thing".
My kids are cave people. They rarely speak in complete sentences, and often respond to you with a singular grunt. They are beasties of the worst kind when it comes to reminding you of homework, or the "really big ass project" that's due this week. (that might be my favorite: "Hey Dad, have we started on my autocad-design of the next NASA space shuttle...because its due tomorrow!")
Have I mentioned that I love Bourbon and Dr. Pepper.
I watched my son, today, run around the basketball court...playing against a team that was bigger, faster, leaner, meaner and just plain better than our team. My son, became a different creature, reminding me of myself, at a younger age...he didn't understand "couldn't"...he could not hear "losing"...wouldn't withstand "not good enough". He barreled around the court chasing loose balls like they were diamonds...he got a look of determination on his face, as he "backed down" his opponent towards the goal to shoot.
We lost. But, I realized that the Cave Boy was a hero, and I loved that hero.
My daughter read more minutes last year, than anyone in her class...logging more than 6,000 minutes of reading. Now, to those of you that might know my wife, you'll understand that to be like Houdini escaping from a paper bag...reading is in their DNA. However, it was an officially recognized accomplishment...and one that I didn't learn of until this week. My daughter casually mentioned it...as we discussed another topic.
I fell in love with my daughter all over again...she didn't need anyone to know. She knew, and it was enough. She didn't need your praise, and she didn't need your approval...she knew damn well she had kicked some major reading ass and didn't need anyone to really tell her about it.
The little cave people that inhabit my home have some sort of spell, or magic upon me. They leave the light on in the shed out back, but I still can't seem to be really upset with them.
I've drank a bit this evening, and decided to write this when I saw their toothpaste art in the sink... what a tribute to two kids that are surely the glory of their parents. Toothpaste on the side of a sink...