I hate the day after Labor Day, because it’s the first pedestrian weekday that officially sounds the death knell on summer. School starts tomorrow, and my psyche is not enjoying the transition. I know this because I had a dream over the weekend, and I never remember my dreams.
In this dream I was charged with getting each son someplace really important, atop two separate mountains. I was flying back and forth between them on a hover board, like the one in “Back to the Future II,” making sure each kid was making progress, working his way upward. Most of the time, they weren’t. R took every unobserved opportunity to sit down and read, and T was usually running downhill, chasing little animals with a stick. Each time I swooped in, I had to urge a son to stay focused and get to wherever he had to, or else he’d be late. And for some reason, Being Late would unleash something unspeakably dreadful.
Also, I was juggling four cantaloupes.
I attribute most of this to playing a juggling game on our new Wii Fit Plus. You balance on a beach ball and juggle little balls that two friendly Miis toss to you. And once you finally get a handle on the skill set involved and work into a rhythm, one of these Miis—who is supposedly helping you in this ridiculous endeavor—throws you a bomb at you.
It’s supposed to train your body’s core, or something. But all it’s apparently doing for me is reminding me that the Nightmare of Logistics is upon us. Any parent knows that handling separate kids with separate friends, tastes, and talents is challenging enough. Doing all this in separate households seems like hurling a billion Rubik’s cubes into the Hadron collider.
I think I’m done playing that game for a while. I’ll be too busy living it.