This morning I finally did it. After being awakened just after the 7:00 hour by the determined and brusque “all hands on deck come wipe my ass” proclamation of DONE! matter of factly howled by our the heir to the empire from his porcelain throne, I finally did it. After being greeted by an early morning chill upon rolling out from under the warmth of our blankets, my boxer briefs drooping off my hips like a Hanes skort, I finally did it. After helping Kathleen clean what looked like shepherd’s pie from the diaper of our oddly unaffected toddler who tragically was born with a civil defense siren instead of vocal chords (sort of an Edward Scissorhands scenario but with an Emergency Public Alert System and a larynx) I finally did it.
After Adam alerted me to an approaching tornado and Jack’s third query of “Daddy what’s on TV?” his 11th plea of “I want to watch a movie.” and his 37th request of “Can we get our Christmas Tree today?” I slipped on my boots, pulled on my jacket, grabbed a stapler, a roll of duct tape and the stack of fliers by the door and forged out into the frosty late autumn morning to do what I should have done 5 years ago.
On every tree, stop sign and telephone pole in the neighborhood I posted dozens of missives that read with heartbreaking remembrance:
Lost: Sunday Morning
Please Help us find our Sunday Morning.
- Our Sunday Morning answers to instrumental jazz, Donny Hathaway and acoustic covers, lazy cups of coffee and sections of the newspaper spread across the living room floor.
- Our Sunday Morning usually doesn’t wake up until 9:30 or 10:00 am and sometimes even stays in bed for up to an hour after it wakes up for some cuddling and smooching, which may or may not lead to some extracurricular activities.
- Our Sunday Morning enjoys SportsCenter, Sports Reporters, human interest stories and political commentary with the volume down.
- Our Sunday Morning sometimes reads the entire newspaper or just the Comics depending on its mood.
- Our Sunday morning eats fresh cut melon, Dunkin Donuts and cinnamon rolls.
- Our Sunday Morning likes long slow jogs that last 2 hours.
- Our Sunday Morning likes long slow other things that last 2 hours.
- Depending on the time of year our Sunday morning will spend hours on the couch, at the dining room table or on the front porch listening to the world slowly wake up.
Please contact us immediately 24 Hours a day if you find our Sunday Morning. We miss it desperately.
After posting the final leaflet I trudged home. When I entered the house Adam was stomping around the downstairs doing his Savion Glover impersonation and warning his Fisher Price Shopping Cart of toys of an imminent Class 5 Hurricane. In the kitchen Jack had both his brand new and his old Spiderman Bump and Go Quad Runners zigzagging across the linoleum and pinballing from one cabinet to the next. I walked into the kitchen to get a cup of coffee at an inopportune moment and stepped directly into a Mallachi Crunch.
With coffee in hand I limped cautiously back through the demolition derby into the dining room where the Sunday paper was on the table draped over the heads of half a dozen ceramic snowmen and the roof of the empty manger of our nativity scene.
The sports section beckoned to me, but it remained unread. “Daddy, can we get our Christmas Tree today?” Jacked asked from the 38th time from behind me. “Not today Jack.” I mumbled reflexively returning serve. Jack volleyed with an “Awwww Man.” drop shot but I’d already wandered off the court to stare wistfully out the front window.
A gust of wind rattled the siding on the house and Adam brought in da’ noise and da’ funk to tell me it was just a cold front pushing down from Canada and it was nothing to worry about but then activated the air raid siren to warn me that shepherd’s pie storm clouds were forming on the horizon. I picked him up and walked back into the kitchen. “Jack, do you want me to make cinnamon rolls?” He nodded an OK as new Spiderman collided with old Spiderman sending the aged Spiderman careening behind a door and newer Spiderman spinning into my ankle.
Jacked laughed out and looked up at me “Which one is better Daddy…the new one or the old one?”
The new one Jack. The new one is far better than the old one.