Love is Alive

It's been said that kids are the death of romance. But I beg to differ. Take this Sunday for instance. For all intents and purposes we were trapped indoors by the onslaught of rain. Entire streets in our town were cut off by flood, some businesses closed. So we stayed home-and the kids went crazy. They ran up and down the hallway screaming; tore cushions from the couch and built forts; dumped bins of toys on the floor to play with a single figurine. When the fun of all that wore off, say, after about fifteen minutes or so, Jackson started into teasing his little brother.

It's quite amusing really. The technique Jackson has mastered is one that marketing people spend four years at college to master. It's called Creating the Need. It goes something like this:

He sneaks a furtive look to see if the we are watching. Ah, the coast is clear. "Hey Emmett, I've got a toy diiinosaurrrrrr, a velociraptor! Isn't it cool?"

Emmett's eyes snap to attention, and his hands reach out. "Let me see."

"Sorry, this is special to me, and I'm not ready to share."

"MINE!!!!"

"It's my turn to play with it Emmett," he says indignantly.

"What is going on here," I say, pretending not to know already. Then I listen as Jackson weaves his tale of misery and woe. I explain about sharing and teasing for the thousandth time, while Jackson hears the blah-blah-blah, and Emmett waits expectantly for deliverance of the raptor that he must have to feel right with the world again.

Back in the kitchen, my wife waits for super dad to return. She puts her arms around me, and whispers in my ear. "You just wait until the kids are in bed."

That got my attention. "Yeah?" I say with a sly smile.

"Tonight is the Sopranos!"

You see? The Judds said it best. Love is alive, and here by me-on the couch.