“What are you watching?” my mom asks.
“Just the news,” The Kid, 8, replies.
“Oh, that’s boring.”
OK, the crisis is lasting longer than a CVS receipt, but I’m going to disagree with Mom this Mother’s Day.
Welcome back to my diary of life’s small moments during this boring pandemic. Yes, I hit the pause button on Part VII last week for our special innovation edition, so we have some rewinding and fast-forwarding to do.
Sunday, April 26
As if Mom’s assessment of the media doesn’t sting enough, my wife demands a correction to my last episode, wherein I mused about The Pup gobbling a $3.19 Kylo Ren pull toy and using The Force to turn it into a $700 vet’s bill.
“Fake news, fake news,” she accuses after discovering the remains of a greasy oven mitt.
I stand by my story. Kylo’s cowl remains MIA.
Tuesday
In the middle of writing an editorial, I get an emergency call that The Kid’s toy boat has drifted off in a nearby lake. I race down with our inflatable kayak, put the pieces together in Red Bull Racing pit-stop time and heroically propel myself forward.
After going in circles about five loops it finally sinks in that I neglected to slide in the fin.
Wednesday
The Kid has wandered off into the neighborhood, and I don’t know which direction to head. I test a new Jedi Mind Trick by trying to think like The Kid.
“Cars, cars, cars.”
He is infatuated with auto racing (hence my Red Bull Racing pit-stop reference) and yammers about building his own vehicle. I head about half a mile away to the home of someone who restores cars.
Yup, there’s The Kid, lugging old Go Kart tires under each arm.
Our neighbor graciously allows The Kid to grab spare parts, including a hubcap from an early 1980s Oldsmobile.
“Tell your wife those tires make good planters,” he comments out of earshot of my son.
Boom, Mother’s Day done.
Thursday
It’s taken seven weeks of gradually sanding, staining and painting, but the home office is finally complete.
I immediately get a new pod mate. The Kid drags in his desk.
“I have to do my work,” he insists.
It doesn’t take long before there’s a nearby equipment malfunction and my mouse mysteriously wanders. For the first time since mid-March, I feel like I’m back at work. I hide my stapler.
Saturday
The Kid wants to roam around Stamford, so I again assign him a story.
It’s the first weekend requiring beach stickers. We check out the scene. Days from now, Stamford officials will hike the cost for out-of-towners from $25 to $40 on weekdays and $65 on weekends.
The Kid knows a story when he sees it. There isn’t anyone by the booth at Cummings Beach. It doesn’t matter how much you charge if you don’t collect the fee.
What The Kid doesn’t know is beach etiquette. We pick up lunch to eat on the waterfront. He tries to order pancakes. That’s my line in the sand: No syrup on the beach.
Sunday, May 3
During a Zoom meeting of our book club (with two elementary school crashers), a friend notes that everyone’s hair is getting longer. I bemoan that my wife doesn’t endorse my proposed solution that she cut mine, I trim The Kid’s and he shear hers.
This backfires. Our friends’ Kid seems inspired to start hacking his dad’s untamed locks.
Didn’t see that plot twist coming.
Tuesday
A global crisis doesn’t stop 8-year-old feet from growing, so there’s no avoiding stores. The Kid’s seem to grow by feet instead of inches. I pull a box out from a wall of sneakers at Costco. As I hold back the tide of Skechers with my head, elbow, knees and toes, I suspect I just lost a life-sized game of Jenga staged by the employees. The virus is a convenient excuse for none of them to help. Behind their masks, I know they are laughing.
Thursday
While reading newspaper pages from the first V-E Day in 1945, I’m drawn to ads for Mother’s Day. It’s wartime, and the hot gift is high-heeled slippers. As if women weren’t suffering enough during World War II. Take off those heels you’ve been toiling in all day and slip into this nocturnal torture devices.
Friday
The Kid has cracked the code on Mom’s Amazon account and gone on a spree. This time, everything is intended for her for Mother’s Day: Godiva chocolates, a Princess Leia coffee mug and a vase (“It’s pretty and it’s the cheapest one,” he reasons).
He also studies V-E history on a video. When the Glenn Miller standard “In the Mood” plays, he sways and murmurs “That brings me back.”
Saturday
As I’ve tackled overdue home projects, I’ve also turned a record label drink coaster and that Oldsmobile hub cap into a wall clock, used a jumbo pencil to mend my busted fishing pole (no, I didn’t snap it in frustration), and used wood left behind by previous home owners to make a TV stand.
It’s taken seven weeks to sink in that I’m trying to fix everything I see because the world is broken.
John Breunig is editorial page editor. Jbreunig@scni.com; twitter.com/johnbreunig.
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May 10, 2020 at 11:00AM
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