I can’t remember exactly what my children were doing on Sunday morning that was so frustrating, but it was enough to drive me to Facebook and post this: “So far, I’d say my kids are definitely not on the Father’s Day program.” I’m glad I qualified it with “so far.” Because by the end of the day, my kids and I shared a joyous laugh-out-loud moment that, I suspect, we’ll always remember.
So let’s fast forward right past the morning, to the early afternoon, when we drove out to Long Island to spend time with my ailing in-laws and take care of sundry errands, like camp shopping and grocery shopping. (A lot of mundane family maintenance had gone by the wayside in the run up to Elena’s bat mitzvah.) At the end of the day, my wife and I agreed that she would do grocery shopping herself, while I went to eat at a local Chinese restaurant with Elena and Adam, who are now 13 and 9. (This wasn’t merely a Father’s Day plum; my wife is a diligent shopper and she didn’t want hungry kids and an irritable spouse getting in the way for an hour and half while identifies the best fruit at the best deals.)
As it happens, the rest of us—Elena, Adam, and I—all had books on us that we were obsessively reading. Elena was reading John Green’s The Fault In Our Stars, which, I’m learning, may well be hottest book in the world right now among tween-age girls. Adam had a comprehensive guide to baseball’s best major and minor league ball parks. And I was reading one of those compulsive Jack Reacher novels. We read before we ordered, we read after we ordered. We did not read while we ate, but we picked up as soon as the meal was done, and continued on reading in the car as we waited to hear from my wife, with a call telling us she was ready to be picked up.
Since I spend so much of my life trying to put some distance between my kids and their electronics, I can’t tell you what bliss this family reading time was for me. My wife finally called, we agreed to come get her, and then we didn’t do it! Consciously or unconsciously, conspiratorially or not, we all kept on reading. As the adult in the car, I should have been more responsible, but I wasn’t. I was reading. She called about ten minutes later, and I let Adam discuss the situation with her. The phone was on loudspeaker and Elena and I could hear her disbelief—and she could hear our laughter. We couldn’t believe that in our haste to read more, we had stranded her. Adam started laughing too, mostly, I think, because it was infectious.
And, yes, then, we really did pick her up. On the way back to the city, Rebecca slept, I drove, and Adam and Elena read till they fell asleep too.
Eric Messinger is Editor of New York Family. He can be reached at emessinger@manhattanmedia.com
