I woke up on Saturday morning, having enjoyed a little bit of sleeping in, thinking that it was going to be just a normal kind of day. I got up to go start the life-sustaining coffee in the kitchen and noticed that the house was surprisingly quiet. Quiet in my house on weekends is like the silence in the horror movies just before the monster jumps out and grabs you - it never means good things. I went to investigate what was going on, maybe catching that monster before he could catch me.
I wandered through the living room, noting that no one was watching TV or playing on the Wii - usually favorites on Saturday morning while waiting for breakfast. Strange. I head upstairs, still searching for the source of the quiet. As I push open the door to the older boys' room, I hear the TV going and know that I have found at least some of my children. Looking in I see the three younger kids sitting on the floor in a half circle around the TV. I hate the idea of a TV in the kids room, but I was a bit in awe of how quietly they were sitting (next to each other even!) and watching it. As I said good morning, their heads all snapped around to look at me. Suddenly a barrage of questions, comments, and complaints were aimed in my direction.
"Mooommmm, Branden changed the channel on my show before it was over. Is it my turn now?"
"Mum! Miranda won't let me watch my sports updates. I need to know the score from last night!"
"I want pan-cakies, pleeeeze." Leave it to Colby to be all about the food.
I turned my head to look over at my oldest son, waiting for his contribution. He looked at me and rolled back over in bed, pulling the blankets up. "Can you get them out of here?"
I turned back to the other three with a confused look. Why were they up here anyway? I know that Miranda in particular hated watching TV in the Boy Room.
"Mom, can we get a big flat TV like Mimi and Grampy have for the living room when we go shopping?"
"I want pan-cakes!"
Pancakes I could do, but wait, shopping? Are we going shopping? What was she talking about? Miranda must have seen the confused look on my face and was kind enough to bail me out.
"Mom, the TV downstairs is broken. When are we going up town to get a new one?"
I turned and headed downstairs. As I stood in the living room I glared at the TV - hmph, traitor. In a last ditch effort to save my Saturday, I pushed the button. Nothing, well, nothing but a strange buzzing noise. Not good. I fiddled with the other buttons on the TV, then the cable box, all in vain - still nothing on the screen.
I could hear Colby asking again about panckes and a grumbled response from my teenager. The natives were getting restless up there. It was time to get moving.
I headed into the kitchen to start the pancake batter and grab a cup of coffee for myself, and Hubby too. He didn't usually drink coffee, but I figured that he was going to need it.
Our Saturday plans had just been changed.
You handle this very nicely, as usual. You have the writer's ability to make a piece about almost nothing quite absorbing. By almost-nothing, I mean that a summary of this piece would be: 'The tv broke and the kids were watching in another room.' That, of course, would not have been a narrative--but you know how to turn it into one.
ReplyDeleteAlso impressive: knowing where to stop and stopping with a short sharp shock. This is the story of the day's bad news start, not the story of the new tv.