We awoke Sunday, refreshed and rejuvenated, thankful for the Auburn victory which meant Ashley's demeanor for the remainder of the weekend would be positive and warm. On the rare occasion following an Auburn loss, Ashley's transformation is drastic, becoming her own version of Mr. Hyde and remaining in such a state for the better part of 48 hours. But no need to worry about that, for Auburn had won, and in decisive fashion for that matter. The football gods had looked fondly upon the McGuirk household (mansion). "We must celebrate our good fortune," I said to the family as we gathered around the breakfast table. Dear Wife had prepared a variety of breakfast options, all of which were served in card-board boxes with words like "Life" and "Crackling Oat Bran" written upon them. "Dear Wife," I had said earlier when I arrived at the sound of the breakfast bell, "there was no need to package your hard work so, but I do appreciate the aesthetic appeal they create. Wonderful art-work. You've been up for awhile, working on this hearty repast, yes?" Her answer was non-verbal, and was simply the extension of the middle digit of her left hand. Indeed! Niece Devin, while normally a fan of cereal, had asked for toast, but not just any toast. Cinnamon toast. "I shall make it," I said, "for I do not lack skills in the kitchen. Now, where is the toasting device--Ashley, a little help please and point it for me. Here, this cupboard? No, the next. Ah, yes. Now, where is the bread? Over there? Higher?" "Oh for Heaven's sake, I'll just make it!" Ashley said and rudely shoved me back to my seat and completed the preparation of the toast. "Papaa," said Bode while he was eating his breakfast, "may we go to the jumpy place?" "The jumpy place?" I asked, confounded for I knew not this establishment. "He wants to go to trampoline world," Ashley said. "Trampoline world it is, but wait." I hesitated, and then, "Devin, does something like this interest you? Do you fancy Trampoline World?" "Oh yes, Uncle! We have them in Albuquerque and I love going there. May we go, please?" "Of course we can, of course," I said and took a drink of juice. "Is this freshly squeezed, Dear Wife?" Again with the middle digit.
Following breakfast, I completed my toilet, Ashley did the same, and the children spent a hour or so playing that addictive Minecraft game. One of these days, I will sit down and figure out what it is that makes this game so enjoyable. The graphics are rudimentary compared to the others games I've seen advertised on television; I can even make out the various pixels, as if this were some Atari game from the early 1980s. The fancy for Minecraft is not something evidenced only by Bode and Devin. Additionally, nephews Teddy and Charlie find the game most enjoyable, as do many of Bode's classmates the school house. I've have inquired about the objective. "Papaa, it depends if you are in survival mode or creative mode," Bode said. "Yes Uncle," continued Devin, neither one of them losing stride in their game as they spoke to me, "we are in creative mode, and we simply wish to build things." "And use TNT to blow things up," said Bode with a wicked laugh. "Blow things up?" I asked. "Why would want to do that?" "Because it's fun." Normally, I would question an answer this simply, but I feel the answer does have merit when spoken by a six year-old.
The hour quickly past and it was time to go to Trampoline World. Everyone's sanitary needs were accomplished, we grabbed some refreshments to quench our thirst following the adventure, and headed off. Ashley expeditiously navigated us to the proper building, we exited the car, and entered this wondrous place. We were required to fill out various forms and sign paper work. "Is there an on-call barrister?" I asked the attendant. She shook her head. "Perhaps I should call our legal counsel for advice?" I said to Ashley, who proceeded, much like yesterday during the Auburn game, to elbow me in the side, thus silencing me. The result today was just as effective. Ashley signed the forms despite my earlier objections, we were given socks, and told to wait until 11:45 in the am before commencing with the jumping activities. At this point, the illustrator took time to draw not one but two pictures of the events of the day. I've no idea why she chose to draw the first picture with Bode's eyes closed, but the charge has already been remitted upon so I've no recourse in getting the picture changed.
We jumped for an hour, taking a respite when needed, but for the most part, we jumped. Ashley and I both commented how tired we were, for although it might look easy, the constant jumping puts a strain both on the leg muscles and the respiratory system. The children were not as thankful as we were at the end of the hour, but we quickly raised their spirits. "What say we go to Souper Salad?" I asked to the children, who were somewhat dejectedly removing the socks. "Yes yes yes!" was Bode's reply. Devin told us she had been to one of these eateries before, unlike the Waffle House. We arrived quickly, for Souper Salad is simply across the street from Trampoline World, and proceeded with the buffet. Ashley and I filled our plates with salad and other vegetables (really, we did). We encouraged the children to do the same, but our efforts fell on slightly deaf ears, for they had seen the pizza and macaroni and cheese. We did convince them to eat some fruit. Following the meal, Bode and Devin each had ice cream, which is the primary draw of Souper Salad.
I wish I could regale you with a tale of adventure that followed Souper Salad. Alas, there isn't one. The children were a bit tired, due in some part to the time spent at Trampoline World, but also likely due having stayed up late watching The Incredibles and then talking into the wee hours of the night. They wanted to play more Minecraft, but being a good parent, I refused and said, "Why not play in your room?" To my astonishment, they did just that, and quietly, which is the best way to play, according to a parent.
The afternoon passed quickly, and we communicated with Brother Pat regarding dinner. Nephew Sean's soccer game was finishing--a win--and they would leave Denver within the hour. I made preparations for our departure, which included the rounding up of Devin's attire, which arrived in our home neatly packed in a carrying case, but was now in a state of disarray scattered about the house. I believe I did a thorough job finding her clothes and shoes and other assorted odds and ends which accompanied her visit. I also prepared a night bag for Bode, as he would be staying the night at Gramama's. I packed an assortment of clothes and one stuff sleeping companion but, unlike in previous years when I would pack books and games and a vast array of items with which to strike his fancy, I packed light, knowing the companionship of cousins Sean and Devin, in addition to presence of Gramama and Brother (Uncle) Pat, would suffice for his entertainment. When the clock's bells chimed 6:30 in the pm, we were off for Monument, the location of the chosen dinner establishment.
The children past the time the back seat with their usual assortment of chuckles and sly laughs. I was somewhat saddened to know there would be no patter of little feet around the house upon our return. The children held no such feelings. Quite the contrary, I believed they to be brimming with excitement, knowing the whole night lay ahead of them, during which they would likely sleep in the living room, with the large television and omnipresent Xbox which accompanies brother Pat on all his travels away from home with the children. "Uncle, why so sad?" asked Devin, having spied my unhappy countenance in the rear-view mirror. "Oh, it's nothing, Dear Niece. Nothing at all," I said, forcing a smile as wide as I could, hoping the appearance of my teeth would hide my disconsolation. All parties arrived at the restaurant almost at identical times. Devin greeted her father with lovely hug and even acknowledged her brother, who she hadn't seen in two days. Bode, of course, said hello to dearest Gramama, but then focused his attention and efforts on cousin Sean, four years his senior but near deity status in his eyes. "Hi Sean," Bode said, going right up to him, where the two started to laugh and giggle and who knows what.
At this point, I must apologize, for again, there was a great failure by the illustrator. This is not to say pictures were not generated. Quite the contrary, a nice assortment of action pictures and posed shots were in my possession. Note the operative tense of the verb. WERE in my possession. As I am apt to do from time to time, I will delete various illustrations from my portable photographic device to preserve ample space in the memory. Usually, I am quite diligent at ensuring all pictures have hence been transferred from the photographic unit's memory to the more permanent memory devices juxtaposed to my computer on my writing desk. This is where I erred greatly, for at some point following the visit of Brother Pat and Dear Niece, I proceeded to delete all pictures from the camera without first ensuring all had been successfully transferred. In this case, they had not, and once again, dear reader, you are left with my inadequate words to paint an out-of-focus picture of the parties in this narrative. I humbly ask your forgiveness. Suffice it to say, the dinner was a fantastic success, the meal was superb, appetites were vanquished, and a great many tales about the weekend's events were discussed, anecdotes were relayed, especially one particular episode in which nephew Sean had to take an ice bath, and general merriment was had by all. Like all things, the evening came to an end, and we had to depart. "Son, come here. Now, you know who's in charge whilst you are at Gramama's, yes?" He nodded. "Tell me, who is in charge now," I said. "Gramama, and Uncle Pat," he said. I smiled. "Yes my son. Well done. Now give your father a hug. That's my boy. Now, don't forget Mother." Bode gave Mother a hug, and was quickly situated in Brother Pat's vehicle. We bade dear niece a good night and hearty good evening to nephew Sean. We arranged to meet again in the morning for the final hand-off.
Following the departure of the children, dear Wife and I went home. We had the domicile to ourselves, with the exception of the dogs. We are quite boring people, so no words will be wasted describing the watching of television and the various cleaning up of the home following, for it was in a state of disarray, as we had allowed the children considerable leniency with regard to upkeep. Hence, the task to repair the house to its original, pristine condition fell upon dear Wife, allowing me to retire to my study and work on these chapters.
The next day, we returned to Gramama's. The children were awake, but perhaps a little tired due to the exertions of the previous evening. "I don't know how late they stayed up," Brother Pat informed us. "Not to worry, dear fellow," I said, "for we have very little on our schedule today. If necessary, Bode will be able to recharge with an afternoon of rest and relaxation, eh Son?" Bode nodded, but I could tell he was sad. "Why do they have to leave?" he asked. "I like it so when they are here." "Ah, so do I, my Son. But Brother Pat must return to his home, your cousins have their studies, and Aunt Dana wants to see them." He frowned, so Brother Pat chimed in. "How about you all come visit us around Christmas?" "Can we Papaa?" Bode asked. "Of course we can!" I exclaimed, and to my relief, this brought some semblance of joy and happiness to Bode, and Devin as well.
The goodbyes were executed with haste, but not without fondness. Heartfelt exchanges took place, and we all felt a lump in our hearts as we drove off, but also thankful knowing it would be less than three months until we saw them again. Ashley, too, was excited, and said, "Thank God this Dickens crap is over!" "Come now, Dear Wife. Is is really such a thing, such a drain on your faculties to participate, to act as though this were nineteenth century England? Perhaps your imagination needs a kick-start, yes? Me thinks it has been dulled by too much Auburn football. Oh, no, stop with the frown. I shall conclude my Dickensian adventure right now." And we drove home, went inside, and Bode and I played Lego Star Wars, just like Oliver Twist did at the end of his story.
Epilogue
Ashley and I were at home Monday night. I was in bed, reading. "I kinda liked doing the Dickens thing," I said. She just rolled her eyes. "You sound quite pompous when you talk like that." "Yeah, I guess." I sat there a moment, and then started to get excited. Ashley saw my eyes go wide and asked, "What's the matter?" "I just thought of how I'll do the next blog." "How?" she asked worriedly...
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Bode and Jeff walked outside, the sun shining for the first time in many days. Ashley, too, was outside in the sun, her pale alabaster skin gleaming as if it were covered in diamonds, sparkling and glistening in the light. She had just come from our neighbors, the Cullens, and...
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"No way in h*** are you writing some stupid vampire blog!" Ashley screamed. Thus quickly ended the McGuirk Twilight Chronicles :-)
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