Upon our arrival at home, we proceeded with great haste into the domicile. Bode released the dogs from their pen, although I must point out "pen" might have one think the dogs were caged in some tiny area when, in reality, the dogs have full access to the backyard, an extensive estate with wonderful views, lots of shade and grass and trees and dirt for digging, and plenty of water. Thus, they have ample room to recreate in our absence.
While Bode released the dogs, I turned on the basement television and the Xbox. "Papaa, I know how to do all this," Bode said. "Yes, yes, I know you do, I know. I just want to make sure." "Papaa, you're doing it wrong," Bode exclaimed, pointing at the television. I looked up from my controller, and then at Bode, somewhat confused. "Isn't the icon to the right?" I asked. "No, Papaa, it's all the way to the left. Yes, go that way. Further. Further still. There. Now, press the button. No, Papaa, the other button--the A-button. Yes, that's it. Now, I think you've got. We're ready to play." Satisfied that I had successfully set up the game, I gave one controller to Bode, the other to Devin, and left the room, confident in Microsoft's ability to babysit the children for the next three hours. However, before heading upstairs, allow me to present an illustration of the two children feverishly engaged in a spirited contest of Minecraft. I won't take the time to explain the game in detail or the objective (quite honestly, I don't know it), but suffice it to say, the children love this game and were quite content to be playing it.
It was a most outstanding afternoon. Auburn struck first with a touchdown, its offense taking right up from where last season ended. Ashley let out a cheer of delight and jumped up and down, prompting the children to come running up stairs. "Papaa," Bode said. "What's the matter with mother?" "Aunt, are you are alright?" Devin asked. "Uh, kids, we're not doing that right now," I told them in a hushed voice. "Auburn scored and they're winning." "Great!" they said in unison and headed back downstairs. It was unclear to me if the the "Great" was for the team or for not having to talk in 1880's vernacular. Let us return to the game. Auburn's defense did not play at the expected level of excellence in the first half. The score was tied 21-21 at the intermission, and Ashley was worried. "Where is the defense?!?" she shouted, although I must point out it was necessary to abridge a couple vulgarities from that statement in order to maintain the high standards of morality to which we cling in these chapters. The second half was a different story--perhaps we could call it a Tale of Two Halves? Auburn's defensive coach made some vital adjustments while the offense continued at an unstoppable pace. There were some minor slip ups, but the game ended with Auburn victorious, 45-21. Cheers and shouts of joy issued forth, high-fives were exchanged, and the dogs were given a slice of dog-bacon as reward for the team's win, and yes, it does seem odd to reward the dogs for something in which they had no impact on the outcome, but sometimes, football makes dear Wife do some odd things and we shall leave it at that.
The game lasted longer than expected, and, per the rule in our home, Ashley is excused from domestic duties during an Auburn game. Hence, we had no meal prepared for the hungry children, who had come upstairs and were looking longingly at the dinner table. "Papaa, is it time for dinner?" Bode asked. "Yes, dear boy, it is, but it will be a tad longer until we eat. "Uncle, how much longer?" Devin asked. "Perhaps fifteen or twenty minutes. I will try to prepare you something." "Don't bother," Ashley said from the couch, her computer on her lap, and the Pizza Hutt website in plain view. "What do you want on your pizza?" she asked the children, who were euphoric when they heard the dinner plans. "Cheese!" both said in unison. Ashley clicked through the screens, and before the clock struck seven chimes, pizza was served. The children wolfed down their slices, apparently in a state of great hunger after the exertions playing Minecraft. "Uncle, we also played Lego Star Wars," Devin said between bites. "Ah," I said. "That explains the hunger." The meal was partaken, the dishes, which were simply paper plates, were tossed in the refuse bins, and a pleasant state of happiness enveloped our home. An Auburn victory has that effect. "What shall we do tonight?" the kids asked. I looked at Ashley, who, though happy, was emotionally spent from the cheering and yelling (and swearing). I, too, was in state of lethargy, not really wanting to do anything other than sit on the couch. We again turned to technology as the great entertainer and offered up another movie. "Uncle, I really like The Incredibles," Devin said. "Let me know see if we have it in the archives," I said. Fortunately, our archives, also known as On-Demand, contained this cinematic feature. "First, children, into your jammies. Make haste! Now, dear Wife, can you accomplish one simple domestic task today and make popcorn for our little ones?" Ashley simply sighed, pulled herself off the couch, made it all the way to the kitchen, went through the elaborate procedure of punching various buttons on the microwave, and popcorn was thus made at the precise moment the children returned down stairs in their pajamas. We all found places on the coach or chair or floor, the dogs found places which presented the best opportunity for snagging a dropped popcorn kernel, and the rest of the night past in relative peace, tranquility, and joy.
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