There has developed a routine for my stepson and I this year. I decided to write about it today because when I went through the routine this afternoon, it was very comforting. So many things are changing . . . change for good, scary change . . .change, change, change. So I enjoyed this simple routine Wednesday afternoon and just knowing that some things remain the same.
Our school district here decided a few years back to let the kids out of school early most Wednesdays throughout the year to give teachers more time for planning. They call it "early release."
So just about every Wednesday, around 1:30 p.m., I hear the door open and the familiar shuffle of my 17-year-old stepson.
"Hey," he shouts out as he walks through the door, his voice carrying over the sound of the dog's feet skittering across the tile floor as they rush to greet him. The dogs love him and are always beyond thrilled when he comes home.
"Hey, how's your day?" I yell back automatically from behind my desk in my home office.
That's when his head pokes through the door, goofy smile on his face, his mop of thick blonde hair sticking up in all directions. "Ok" he says as anxious dogs circle at his feet. "I'm gonna get something to eat."
I hear the cabinet doors opening and closing in the kitchen, the rustle of boxes and bags, the clink of bowls and silverware. The sound of Spongebob Squarepants as he switches on the TV in the kitchen floats through the house along with a steady murmur of enthusiasm as he chats to his furry friends. It's not unusual for him to eat two peanut butter-honey sandwiches, a bowl of cereal and some chocolate chip cookies. The dogs get a couple of milkbones. I keep a bowl of fresh fruit in the kitchen and my stepson will definitely do some damage to it, especially if there are apples. The stomach of a 6-foot tall, 165 pound teenage boy is never full.
Around 3:00 he pokes his head back in my office and says "I'm heading to practice," and off he goes to swim team practice, where he'll burn off everything he just ate in only a matter of minutes. The dogs whine as his truck pulls out of the drive, but eventually they settle down and fall back to sleep.
I go back to typing away at my computer . . .