The Punctuation of Parenthood

Spring is over.

At least it is in Arizona. April and the temperatures are pushing 100. No more open windows at night, cooling off the house and studio. Ah well, it was good while it lasted, bring on summer.

The door bursts open to chaos, kids everywhere.

“Hey dad!” Zack shouts as he runs by, several friends in tow.

“Hey buddy, welcome home, I missed you!”

“Missed you too Dad!”, Zack yells from the other room.

All right, I will catch up with the kids later, after their friends go home. Shari, my wife, comes in, sweaty, but smiling.

“Hey hon, I need to go back to the school and pick up Belle. I am going to take the car, it has better AC,” she says.

“Sounds good, see you when you get home.” I hadn’t even noticed that Belle wasn’t with the first herd of kids through the door.

Shari is always on the run it seems. Between the kids, her church callings and life in general, she sets a pretty fast pace, I don’t know how she does it.

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