A Family Story for a Blustery Day

I have not been blogging lately. My dear friend, Jill, just called me out on Facebook. That’s what dear friends do. They call you out when you are hiding.

The truth is, I don’t know what to write to you. I am falling out of love with the sound of my own voice. My internal machinations seem less interesting to me than they have. For the past week, they just seem exhausting.

So, a family story.

Two years ago, Grant wanted to make something for his dad for Father’s Day. He had decided on a drawing on a t-shirt. He picked out a green t-shirt and a black Sharpie for his work.

His first attempt produced nothing but frustration.

“I ruined it!”

“I can fix it.” Haley rushes to his rescue by trying to fix the word “dad” which, he was right, did not look quite right. “There. It’s better. See?”

“No, it’s not right,” Grant said, scratching through the word in anger and frustration. “It doesn’t look like a present now.”

Tina grabbed her purse.

“Come on, Grant. Let’s go get another green shirt.”

Grant reluctantly gave up his anger and frustration. He always gives it up reluctantly. He holds on to bad humor as if he needs some sort of satisfaction of a global acknowledgment of his justified anger.

“OK. Throw that one away.” He doesn’t ever want to see it again.

“We’ll take care of that later, Grant. Come on. Let’s go.”

They return twenty minutes later. New green shirt, which Grant completes to his satisfaction and wraps it up for his dad. As he is wrapping his gift, Tina works off to one side on the other green shirt that she has not thrown away after all.

“Nice work, Grant. Your dad will love that.”

“I can’t wait to give it to him.”

Tina hides the other green shirt for later. She gives him his moment with his triumph of his shirt.

The next week, when the kids return. We are all getting ready for bed. Tina emerges from the bedroom wearing the cast off green shirt Grant had been unhappy with as her pajama shirt. Haley is the first to speak.

“Is that the shirt Grant made for daddy?”

“No,” Tina responds. “This is the shirt he made for me!”

As we look at the shirt, we notice that Tina has colored in a heart over the scratched out “dad” and written her name in red below the heart. In mostly Grant’s writing, the shirt reads “Best Tina ever!” Don’t dare think otherwise. P.S. Can I have a cup of coffee?”

Grant protests, but his heart isn’t in it. Tina’s over the top sense of humor, which I am always afraid will push Grant over the edge, delights him in a way he can’t resist. Try as he might to hold on to his indignation, he can’t. He protests…but laughs with us at Tina’s cheekiness.

Tina wears the shirt when we have the kids. It is mostly not even noticed now by anyone but me. But it still makes me laugh.

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